


Paris High School

by obesessedwbeautiesandbeasts



Series: Paris High School [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Drama, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obesessedwbeautiesandbeasts/pseuds/obesessedwbeautiesandbeasts
Summary: Based on a phenomenal piece by ofbeautsandbeasts.The first day of senior year started off as nothing special. Same as it ever was at Paris High School. He was bored. He was always bored. The end of the first day; however, was not the same. For him, it all changed after he saw her.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Series: Paris High School [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859881
Comments: 15
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, ofbeautsandbeasts for creating a piece and canon that gave me the inspiration to write this story.  
> See more ofbeautsandbeasts beautiful creations at Deviant Art.

It had been less then a week since the beginning of the term. Less then a week since he first saw her.

The first day of senior year started off as nothing special. Everything routine. Everything as usual. Same faces amongst the upper classes, same teachers, same as it ever was at Paris High School. He was bored. He was _always_ bored.

The end of the first day; however, was not the same. Not routine. For him, it was different. He stood up against the wall outside and listened to Nadir's retelling of the day's class politics. Erik heard the laughter of a girl. The laughter, as he listened, had a unique cadence. Not at all annoying in tone if he were to compare it to the other girls of Paris High School. He opined that this sound was "tolerable;" rather, "pleasant." As he casually glanced over his shoulder towards the sound of the laughter, he could not escape the sight of what he observed.

Something happened within him when he saw her. His chest tightened and his throat grew dry. He already stood with his arms crossed in front of him, and at the sight of her, he pulled his arms around himself tighter. His shoulder had been supporting the weight of his violin case, but as his muscles tensed he began to shake. He had never felt this way...it troubled him.

Nadir couldn't help but notice the change in his best friend's demeanor. He was used to Erik's spacing out when he would talk about topics that didn't interest him, but at least he would fain some attention. This time, it was different. It was as if he were hypnotized.

"Erik? Erik? Earth to Erik, can you hear me?"

Nadir reached out to touch his best friend's shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. As his hand made contact, Erik's left hand was quick to tightly grip Nadir's wrist.

"Whoa, Erik! It's cool. What's wrong?" Nadir calmly asked.

Nadir was not completely shocked by Erik's reaction. Knowing Erik's history, a mere grip of the wrist was nothing.

Erik quickly released his best friend's wrist while continuing to watch the girl walk past them. Nadir stood silent as he observed. The girl was not alone. She was holding a conversation with a teen-aged boy. He saw Erik's body remained tense until the two disappeared around the corner, and only then did Erik relax. Nadir was quick to put the pieces together.

"She's a freshman. Her name is Christine Daae," Nadir smiled.

"What are you going on about, Nadir?" Erik responded, doing his best to downplay any interest with Nadir's information.

"Nothing, nothing at all, Erik. Being class president does have some perks," Nadir winked.

"Besides, just making conversation, you know? A conversation that may interest you, is all," Nadir kept his smile.

"Pffft, I have no idea what you're talking about," Erik retorted.

"By the way, I'm sorry about earlier. I...I didn't mean to grab you like that." His words were already quiet, but when passing through the surgical mask he wore, they held a more somber tone.

"It's alright, I understand. Just, um...just go easy on that grip, ok?" Nadir said rubbing his slightly throbbing wrist.

Erik simply nodded as they began their walk home.

* * *

He took his usual seat in the library—the table in the far back corner away from the windows and away from the library's abusive florescent lights. Away from people. Closer to the bookshelves and the shadows. He took out his books, writing pad, music composition book, and several sharpened pencils and placed them methodically on the table. Nadir was at color guard practice and would not be much longer.

They planned to study for their first Advanced Placement European History test that Monday. Erik already knew most of European History. He had been studying it for as long as he could remember. The particular subject matter of the Monday test would be the Architecture of France; more specifically, Paris. Erik already knew the subject matter quite thoroughly, but he would study with Nadir to keep up the appearance of being just another "normal" high school senior.

He smirked to himself under the surgical mask. He knew that he was not "normal." So, why was he feeling the "normal" pangs of infatuation? Why was he feeling the supposed "normal" reaction to a girl of whom he was seemingly attracted to, yet he knew absolutely nothing about?

He refused to acknowledge _her_ name. A name made her _real_. To make _her_ real meant that he had to acknowledge his feelings for _her_. He never had to deal with something like _this_ before, and he felt that by denying _this_ , _it_ would simply go away; however, the more he denied himself, the more frustrated he became.

_"Why? Why now? Why can't I control this? Get yourself together, Erik! She's just a girl...a... **beautiful** girl…" _

_"Ev_ _ery moment I think of her I'm wasting valuable time! I should be composing! I should be...I…"_

He began to scribble music notes as a form of emotional release. The music in his mind was wild and uncontrolled, just as his thoughts were of her.

_"Damn it! I should have graduated already! Then I would have never seen her! I wouldn't be here right now...I should have graduated when I was twelve, then I would have moved on...without... Nadir...without...my best friend…"_

The thought of leaving Nadir behind caused him guilt. After everything Nadir and his family had done for him—given him over the years. He instantly regretted his thoughts and began to chastise himself.

_"No, I'm not being disloyal to Nadir, nor to the Khadems...it's just...I could have moved on without ever beholding a miracle such as her..."_

He tried to concentrate. He unconsciously wrote his feelings in the form of music notes into his book. The composition was erratic and disjointed. He tried to fight himself, but all he could think about was her. Her smile. Even her laughter echoed in his mind.

Oh, how he took in everything about her face, and forced himself to remember her loveliness! Now, all he wanted to do was forget. Forget the brightness of her blue eyes—how full of life they were! Forget the color of her skin—her flawless soft skin! Forget the silkiness of her long wavy blonde hair—no doubt her scent was intoxicating! He couldn't help but wonder how it would feel just to brush one of his fingers against her cheek…

 _"NO!"_ he shouted at himself, immediately repulsed by the thought as he stared down at his hands.

His left hand gripped his pencil tightly as his mental music drowned him. He made himself stop writing, and placed both hands on top of the table—stretching out the full length of his fingers. He forced himself to take in the sight before him: discolored, scarred skin and abnormally long, skeletal-like fingers. He imagined his disgusting hands brushing against the porcelain perfection of her cheek. Oh, she would cringe! She would back away from such an abhorrent thing! She would be right to smack his hand away in revulsion. That would be the reality. _His_ reality. Rage filled him as he unconsciously broke his pencil and pressed his thumb down into the sharp splinters. The pain he felt was minor—he had to do something to distract himself from constantly thinking of her. He had to study. No, he had to _pretend_ to study. In an attempt to be rationale, he sternly lectured himself.

_"It's been less then a week! Less then a week! What the hell is wrong with you?! Allowing yourself to become reduced to this?! Look at the facts—the **reality**... **your reality**. She's so beautiful, and you're...you're…" _

He closed his eyes as he painfully accepted the obvious. Just when he thought he had himself under control, jealously consumed him, causing his innocent yearnings for her to grow into seething hatred of... _that **boy**_. A fierce competition now took place in Erik's mind. A competition in which he begrudgingly knew his fate.

_"Of course she would be walking with a boy...a **beautiful** boy...a boy far more suited for her. It would be only natural that she would choose **him**..." _

Again, he tried to convince himself to be rationale.

_"You're only focusing on her beauty. There's more than just simple beauty. She's probably unintelligent. Yes! She is a freshman after all—I mean, she's still young, she still has so much to learn, and she has to grow up...she will only grow more...beauti—what if she can't hold a conversation? What if she is completely **uninteresting**?" _

The more he continued this line of reasoning, he found it easier to disconnect.

But…

... _that **boy**_...

_"Of course THAT **boy** would bring her laughter. Of course **he** would make her happy...of course **he** would be rewarded with the loveliness of her smile...of course **he** would be the one to caress her... face…" _

Erik slowly opened his eyes, his thumb still digging into the splinters of his destroyed pencil.

_" **His** hands are perfect! **His** face is perfect! I'm sure **his** body doesn't have a single blemish; whereas, **I** …" _

_"Face it, you damn fool! She would never see you for anything but the freak you are!"_

But…

_"NO! She's off limits to me...off...limits!..but there is something about her. Something different…"_

But…

_"That's not the point! I'm not accepting reality! Why can't I push this away?! **WHY?**!" _

His mind reeled. Each rationale thought gave way to contradiction. No matter how hard he tried to stop himself from thinking of her more thoughts continued to manifest. He sat there, alone, consumed in his thoughts and barely able to breathe.

He didn't realize that his thumb was bleeding and infested with splinters. Pulling himself away from his chaotic mind, he hazily became aware of his surroundings. Before he could completely comprehend his wound, the sound of quiet humming distracted him yet again.

He instantly identified the melody...the "Jewel Song," from the opera _Faust_. Marguerite's aria. Erik rose from his seat and gravitated toward the sound.

How lovely it sounded to him. What intrigued him all the more was who would be humming an aria? It isn't exactly the number one song on the what's-hot-today music billboards. He found the source of the humming just on the other side of the long bookshelf. He noticed the area of the library was Philosophy, section "F–G." Quietly, he peered around the side of the shelf.

His eyes grew wide as he stared at...her. The melody was coming from her! In disbelief, he grabbed the side of the bookshelf to support his suddenly weakened legs; and in doing so, he uncharacteristically became clumsy, causing several books to tumble from the shelf and onto the floor.

The sound startled her from her own search, and caused her to look in the direction of the disruption, the fallen books, and then at him.

_"Damnitdamndamnit!"_

Panic, all he felt at that moment was sheer panic.

If she could see his whole face she would see that he was blushing intensely. Quickly, he began to pick the books up from the floor desiring nothing more then to disappear and erasing her memory of ever having seen him. Before he could make a quick escape, she was next to him on her knees helping him pick up the remaining books.

"Here, let me help you...OH!" she exclaimed in a high whisper, "YOUR THUMB!"

Before Erik could react, her reflexes seemed to be faster than his. She gently grabbed his left wrist and was closely examining his thumb, causing him to loose his grip on the books he had gathered from the floor.

"This is bad and you're bleeding! Come with me!"

Without letting go of his wrist, she lead him to a nearby water fountain. Completely paralyzed from shock, all he could do was allow her to take him.

From the small purse that draped over her long neck she pulled out a clean cloth handkerchief and ran it under the water, while never letting go of his wrist. One-handed, she squeezed the excess water from the cloth, and gently applied it to his thumb. She was careful when she patted away the thin lines of dried blood that had fallen almost down to his wrist.

He truly did not know how badly he had hurt himself. He winced at the touch of the cool cloth, but withheld any external reaction. His surprise at her attention to him caused him continued shock and maintained paralysis. His feelings only intensified when she slipped her hand into his.

"This doesn't look good at all," she said still concerned, bringing his hand closely to her face.

"Come on, we need to sit down and take care of this."

She led him by the hand to an empty table.

"Now...you sit there, and I'll sit across from you and…"

Her words trailed off as she finally looked up at his face. Taking in the view before her, she became silent. He was so...so tall. She didn't notice his height when she was attending to his wound, and how he towered over her.

He was wearing a surgical mask. Why? Was he ill?

His hair was thick, black, and spiked while his bangs were left natural and parted just over his right eye.

His eyes.

What was it about his eyes that drew her in? His eyebrows were thick and black. Perfect, even, but the flesh. His skin held a pale yellowish hue. There appeared to be scars or some form of unidentified deformities on his forehead. It was as if his hair was deliberately styled this way to hide the top half of his face.

But his eyes.

Thick black eyelashes adorned the amber and onyx jewels set within the sunken eye sockets. From the angle he held his face she could see that there was little to no white in them, yet somehow, they...glowed. In his eyes she saw...sadness. His eyes told her that he had suffered. Suffered how? She could feel her chest becoming tight and felt a warmth rise in her abdomen. Her hand, already in his tightened causing him to deflect his eyes from her increasingly searching ones. She would have continued to stare at him if it weren't for someone clearing their throat close by that ended the moment.

"OH! Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry!" she whispered, now looking down at her hand still in his.

"I violated your boundaries! I wasn't thinking! I should have asked you instead of just...I...I'm so sorry!"

Immediately, she let go of his hand and slowly looked back into his eyes. Her cheeks burned red from embarrassment, as her blue eyes saddened.

She was expecting some sort of admonishment from him. Perhaps a hateful or even angry glare from his powerful eyes, but all she found there was gentleness. While he said nothing in words, his eyes seemed to welcome her.

"May I?" she asked before reaching to take his hand.

He nodded slowly, now not breaking their eye contact.

"Are you sure? I can't apologize enough...I feel like I…"

"Never mind," he quietly responded.

The sound of his voice caused the warmth in her abdomen to return, and the blush in her cheeks to remain. It was soft, deep, and...melancholic.

She watched him as he pulled out the chair for her, taking in how graceful he was for such a small action.

She took her seat and continued to watch him as he sat on the opposite side now facing her. She found herself now needing courage to look into his eyes. She had to know if he were truly annoyed with her and wanted her gone; but, from what she could see, his eyes only showed her warmth.

She took her purse from around her neck and started rummaging through it, pulling out a small case with tweezers, a small bottle of hand sanitizer, and a small purse-sized packet of tissues.

Shock never left him as he stared at her with wonder. He couldn't take in everything that was happening. It was so quick! It was so unexpected! If he were any other teenager this would be comical; comical, indeed.

He placed his hands in his lap trying to save any dignity he had left. When she realized...when she truly saw...

"I know this isn't the most sanitary thing to do...but it's all I have…" She laid out a tissue on the table, dripped the hand sanitizer onto the tweezers, and lightly tapped the excess sanitizer onto the tissue.

Cautiously he placed his hands on the table closer to her. She reached her hand out to him, but then quickly pulled back.

Unbeknownst to her, her action triggered him, causing him to flinch. He aggressively withdrew his hands from her sight balling them into fists on his lap. Renewed feelings of self-loathing caused him to clench his jaw.

_"FINALLY! Now do you see... **GIRL**!? You've been holding the hand of a living corpse this whole time! …"_

Bravely she looked into his eyes and saw his distress before he defensively turned away from her.

 _"LEAVE! LEAVE **NOW**!"_ he screamed at himself.

"I'm sorry," her quiet voice broke his thoughts.

"I was going to do it again. I...I mean, I was just going to take your hand without asking your permission first! I know that I already asked if it was ok, but I mean...I just…"

She dared to beseech his eyes again. He slowly turned his head to her finding nothing but sincerity in her eyes.

Beneath the mask he...smiled, and she found his eyes...smiling back at her. The tension in her face relaxed while never taking her eyes from his.

"I'm Christine."

"Erik."

"Erik, may I?" She held out her hand to him.

Hesitant, he placed his hand in her's. Now that they sort of settled down, he feared she would finally be able to pay closer attention to his deformities.

She held his hand and gently began to pluck at the small splinters. He stared at her face, waiting—anticipating her disgust and rejection of him.

"This might hurt, if it does please tell me! If you want me to stop, please let me know, and I will."

The surprises just never stopped with this girl! She was concerned about how _he_ would feel? If _he_ were in pain…?

_Christine._

Her eyes met his again. She saw, for a brief moment shock giving way to calmness as he nodded.

She began to quietly hum the "Jewel Song," as she attended him.

"You...do you like opera?" Erik found himself asking.

"I know many find it out of date or old fashioned or completely ridiculous, but I…Wait! You...you know the 'Jewel Song'?"

"I…"

"Hey! Sorry I'm late! Color guard had to make a few changes to the routine, and I…"

Nadir unknowingly interrupted them as he approached their table. He became concerned when he saw the scene before him.

"Erik? What happened?"

Erik said nothing. He turned his head away from both of them as Christine continued to work on his splintered thumb. "Now, this might sting a little…" Christine placed a small drop of hand sanitizer on the now raw tip of Erik's thumb.

She was right. It stung him, but he remained still.

"There. It's the best I could do. Let it air dry for now, ok?"

As she released his hand he quickly pulled away from her, while continuing to look away from them.

"I...I guess I better go. I still have to get that book on Goethe," Christine whispered sadly, taken aback by Erik's abrupt change.

As she collected her things, Nadir smiled and held out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Nadir...I see you met Erik. We're here to study for our first test in European History on Monday."

Shaking his hand, Christine smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Nadir. I'm Christine. Wow, a test on Monday? That seems so soon!"

"Well, it's AP, so…"

"What is the test on?"

"The architecture of Paris, France."

"Really? If I remember correctly, and historically speaking, Paris can be divided into four architectural periods: Roman, Medieval, Renaissance and Classical. Most of Paris is symmetrical and organized. In fact, did you know that Roman architecture is the most easily recognized? I feel that the buildings possess a majestic, almost dominating feeling.* The city of Paris is just so beautiful, don't you think?"

Nadir's eyes grew wide as his jaw hung open. Erik, while still "ignoring" them couldn't help but hold the same reaction to Nadir's.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to talk your ear off," Christine blushed.

"It's just that I love European History! And the architecture is amazing!"

"That's...so wild! Maybe you should sit down and join us! Maybe we'll learn a thing or two from you!"

Nadir was unable to hide his complete surprise towards her.

"Oh, that reminds me! I hope it's not too late, I have to run up to the administration building…"

"Pardon?"

"Mmm...I have to pick up something…"

Nadir could only nod in acknowledgment.

A new found silence settled between them and became awkward. Christine glanced back to Erik, who continued to "ignore" them.

"I...I hope you feel better…" she said just above a whisper in Erik's direction.

Christine did her best to hide her disappointment of his cool dismissal of her by smiling at Nadir.

"It was nice to meet you, Nadir."

"Likewise, Christine! If you have any questions or need help around Paris, we're happy to help!"

As she walked away, Nadir now took the seat across from Erik. It was only then did Erik turn to watch her leave.

"What was that all about, Erik? You could have at least said good-bye to her instead of just dismissing her like that! What happened? Erik, answer me!"

Erik looked at Nadir with mournful eyes. "She...she touched me, Nadir. She just…" He stared down at his hand forcing himself to accept reality...the reality that it all truly happened.

"Yeah! And did you hear her?! That was...I mean, wow?!" Nadir hadn't noticed that Erik had retreated into his head.

_"So, she **is** intelligent...she **is** interesting…" _

Christine...

Nadir then realized that all-too-familiar stare in Erik's eyes. Erik wasn't "with" him any longer. Nadir began to wish he had been there for his best friend earlier when he needed him. Maybe he could have stopped Erik from hurting himself. As he watched Erik, it struck him; for the first time in Erik's life, he was shown kindness from someone—someone other than himself or his family—and that kindness came in the form of a living, breathing angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Christine's architectural knowledge: Les Studios de Paris ~ News from your home in Paris, STUDIOS PARIS blog


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a phenomenal piece by ofbeautsandbeasts. The first day of senior year started off as nothing special. Same as it ever was at Paris High School. He was bored. He was always bored. The end of the first day; however, was not the same. For him, it all changed after he saw her. 
> 
> Cover Art (as seen in Chapter 1): "Paris High School" by ofbeautsandbeasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos: Aaronsiy1, FriendlyFandomLurker, Fabri_sa, Aelena, and guests! I appreciate all of you taking the time to read chapter 1 and leave the love <3
> 
> Dziękuję Aelena za cudowny komentarz! Naprawdę cieszę się, że podoba ci się ta historia!*  
> Thank you Aelena for your lovely comment! It truly makes me happy that you are enjoying the story thus far!  
> *I do not speak, read, or write Polish--I do; however, use Google translate :D
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and cannon. With love, my friend.

Nadir didn’t want to fluster Erik. Now was not the time to coax his thoughts from him. He always respected Erik’s privacy—be it his physical living space, possessions, or his emotional state—unless he knew that Erik was in some form of distress that warranted immediate attention. He could see that Erik was trying to process what had just happened to him. _If_ Erik wished to talk to him, Nadir would be there to listen. _Should_ Erik want advice, Nadir would certainly do the best he could, given that romantic relationships were just as unfamiliar to him. Right now, Nadir’s concern for his best friend couldn’t overshadow his own priorities. _H_ _e_ had to study for the upcoming test.

Nadir worked hard throughout his education to earn and maintain his good grades, while Erik was an enigma when it came to education and school. He just seemed to absorb and remember _everything_ that was either taught to him or through his own independent study any subject. Nadir sincerely admired Erik for his brilliance, and he was truly grateful that Erik was always available to help him.

As Nadir was mentally contemplating an action plan towards his studies, Erik stood up and walked away from their current seating. Nadir grabbed his things, pushed both chairs in, and quickly followed Erik.

Returning to his original seat, Erik picked up a pencil, sat down, and translated his thoughts into music; never paying Nadir the slightest bit of attention.

Careful not to disturb Erik, Nadir sat in the chair opposite him pulling out his books, and readied himself to study. Glancing at Erik, Nadir couldn’t help but smile, as he watched him compose. No doubt the music was about his encounter with Christine. Nadir hoped that his friend felt happiness.

* * *

“ _I must have done something to upset him…”_

Christine stood at the library’s front desk.

“Goethe, huh? Working on something for AP Literature?” the librarian inquired, unknowingly disrupting her thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”

“AP Lit? No, wait. Sorry, that can’t be right. Your ID says you’re a freshman.”

Christine took _The Sorrows of Young Werther_ from the librarian and exited the library.

As she walked to the Administration Building thoughts of Erik returned, as well as her feelings of rejection and disappointment.

“ _What did I do? Why would he just...I mean, he ignored me!”_

She felt her eyes sting.

“ _Well of course he would!_ _I_ _completely over-stepped_ _my_ _boundaries!_ _I_ _t’s not like he’s a close friend or something! He’s a total stranger! What’s wrong with me?! I should’_ _ve_ _just minded my own business. I should’_ _ve_ _just ignored him...”_

But…

“ _...he was hurt! He was bleeding! I couldn’t just leave him alone like that!”_

…

“ _He must absolutely hate me…”_

His eyes flashed in her mind.

“ _H_ _e hardly had any whites in his eyes! Contacts. Yes!_ _H_ _e_ _ **ha**_ _ **d**_ _to be wearing contacts…”_

She felt her heart beating in her throat.

“ _Contacts or not, his eyes didn’t_ _ **seem** __to hate me…_ _maybe he was just being polite...”_

“ _..._ _I didn’t even hear him!_ _Just_ _books falling then he appeared...maybe I was concentrating_ _too hard_ _and_ _just_ _didn’t hear_ _him_ _...”_

Large lettering greeted her as she approached the Administration Building:  
GO PARIS PHANTOMS!

As she entered the building, Christine pushed the thoughts of Erik out of her mind.

A red velvet banner with a large gold lamé comedy mask hung from the ceiling with black lettering embroidered beneath: PARIS PHANTOMS

The hall was full of glass cases displaying awards, as well as shelves full of pictures past and present.

She walked up to the glass case that held the Arts and Literature awards. The case itself, was quite small by comparison to the much larger case directly next to it. As her eyes shifted to the larger case, she stood on her toes to read the plaque on its top shelf.

Universal Pictures  
Presented to  
Erik Geiger-Belshaw  
 _Original Score_

As she skimmed, she found that _all_ the awards in this one case were for someone named Erik Geiger-Belshaw:

20th Century Fox: _Original Musical or Comedy Score  
_ Columbia Pictures: _Instrumental Composition  
_ MGM: _Arrangement on an Instrumental Recording  
_ Paramount Pictures: _Score Soundtrack Album For A Motion Picture, Television Or Other Visual Media  
_ United Artists: Scoring: _Adaptation and Original Song Score  
_ Walt Disney Studios: _C_ _lassical Crossover Album  
_ Warner Bros. Studios: _Original Main Title Theme Music_

On an adjacent shelf sat an Emmy Award and one Grammy Award also exhibiting the name Erik Geiger-Belshaw.

“I see you found our resident celebrity’s achievements,” a voice mused behind Christine.

“Resident...celebrity?”

Christine held a puzzled look as she turned around to face Principal Richard Firmin.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Firmin. I couldn’t help but admire these awards.”

“Yes, yes. Erik has done a tremendous service for Paris High School! He’s a senior this year...I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough.”

“ _Erik…_ _? The boy I met in the library?”_

“Now, Ms. Daae, you’re here to pick up the results of your test scores, are you not? Come into my office.”

Mr. Firmin usually got right to the point with little to no small talk in between. It truly vexed him to talk about Erik, but given the young man had brought Paris High School such prestige, he had to begrudgingly speak highly of him.

Christine nodded, completely baffled over what she just learned.

Once she was seated in front of his desk, Mr. Firmin handed her a large manila envelope.

“In summation, Ms. Daae, I would like to congratulate you on a job well done! Please have your guardian sign the paperwork this evening and return the signed documents first thing tomorrow morning. My secretary will print out your new schedule, and you may start immediately.”

“...immediately?”

Christine filled with uncertainty.

“Yes, immediately. Keep up the exemplary work, Ms. Daae!”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Firmin.”

Her response to him was quiet, and contained a great deal of self-doubt; which was largely ignored by Mr. Firmin, as he politely dismissed her.

On her way out she meekly glanced over at the glass case containing Erik’s awards.

“ _Heaven help me!_ _..._ _”_

* * *

As she sat at the bus stop, she stared at the manila envelope.

“ _I don’t know if I can do this! Start my new schedule..._ _ **immediately**?! I...I didn’t think it would be so soon!”_

Nerves racked her mind and body.

“ _Can I do_ _this_ _? Can I?”_

She boarded the bus, sat down and stared out the window. Her thoughts of the evening’s events consumed her.

“ _Erik...resident celebrity…?!... **just who is this guy**?! Resident celebrity or not, he was... **rude**_. _”_

But…

“ _...what if I’m overthinking this? He’s someone I just met...I…”_

“ _..._ _I_ _just don’t want him to_ _hate_ _me…”_

Yet…

“ _He **seemed** to not mind me...maybe, I misread him?”_

She hung her head.

“ _I bet he’ll have a few good laughs about_ _me_ _with the upperclassmen..._ _maybe even celebrities!_ _”_

Closing her eyes she couldn’t help but imagine her humiliation.

* * *

 _The courtyard of Paris High was empty and quiet. As she sat on a stone bench eating her lunch and reading her book she looked up to the center of the courtyard and saw...Erik. Only this Erik_ _appeared to_ _her in the form of_ _Ziggy Stardust._

 _D_ _ressed in_ _a_ _wide-leg vinyl Tokyo Pop jumpsuit_ _adorned with a_ _white cape emblazoned with Japanese kanji letters,*_ _his presence_ _was_ _mesmerizing. His black hair was styled with the top softly spiked as the back feathered around his neck. The_ _entire look was completed with_ _a Venetian Jester masquerade mask_ _covering_ _just_ _the top half of his face_ _leaving his lips and chin exposed._

 _He was instantly_ _surrounded by all his_ _awards_ _that were_ _being hit by rays of sunshine. They glittered so much it was blinding! Next, there appeared the loud display of_ _the paparazzi snapping pictures_ _a_ _nd shoving microphones in his face_ _as they asked_ _him_ _a barrage of questions._ _A large crowd of students_ _surrounded_ _him shouting his praises. He was handed a microphone, and when he_ _gracefully_ _raised his arm the crowd_ _silenced._

 _“_ _EVERYONE!_ _You’ll never believe_ _this!_ _I met this pathetic girl,_ _and s_ _he was_ _so_ _annoying!”_

 _T_ _he crowd booed and jeered._

 _“I mean,_ _I_ _just_ _couldn’t wait for her to_ _leave!”_

 _M_ _ore boos and jeering._

 _“_ _She s_ _eriously_ _had no idea that she was_ _disturbing_ _..._ _ **my**_ _greatness_ _!”_

 _T_ _he crow_ _d_ _began uproariously cheering and clapping._

“ _NOW!_ _BEHOLD_ _IT FOR YOURSELVES_ _..._ _ **MY**_ _GREATNESS_ _!_ _”_

_Out of nowhere, a large rainbow arc housed a huge symphonic band that started playing._

_Nadir_ _materialized complementing Erik’s Ziggy Stardust as a Spider From Mars. Nadir and the color guard performed an ostentatious choreography while wearing_ _high-heeled boots, multicolored_ _bodysuit_ _s_ _,_ _and_ _extravagant makeup.*_ _*_

* * *

She sunk into her seat and groaned.

“ _Father always sa_ _id t_ _hat_ _I_ _did_ _ha_ _ve_ _an over-active imagination.”_

But…

“ _He wouldn’t do that...would he?!_ _Make fun of me? He didn’t **seem** to be that type of person…”_

“ _His friend..._ _Nadir, seemed nice enough, though.”_

But...

“ _If they were there to study for their test on architecture, why was Erik in the philosophy section? God! I’m over-analyzing this way too much...it’s the library! People study multiple subjects at once! I’m just being ridiculous!”_

Determined, Christine convinced herself to take her head out of the clouds. Newer and bigger challenges were going to start for her...tomorrow.

“ _AP Lit. Yes, concentrate on AP Lit! The assignments are to describe the interaction between Lotte, Werther, and Lotte's new pet, in the letter of September 12, and describe how the first part of the book relates to Romanticism.”_

However...

“ _Stop it!_ _I’m_ _worrying over nothing! I’m sure_ _I’ll never see him again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dellas, Mary. “Dressing David Bowie As ‘Ziggy Stardust.’” The Cut, New York, 26 Feburary 2018,  
> https://www.thecut.com/2018/02/kansai-yamamoto-on-dressing-david-bowie-as-ziggy-stardust.html
> 
> **https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rise_and_Fall_of_Ziggy_Stardust_and_the_Spiders_from_Mars


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who have continued reading! Your support is truly appreciated! 
> 
> Thank you BaePsyche for your honest review and giving my story a chance; as well as NPennyworth, Maestro_Mort_Rouge, and all guests for your kudos!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With love, my friend.

As Erik and Nadir walked home from the library, curiosity got the better of Nadir. He just couldn’t help himself, as he tried to get Erik to talk about his earlier encounter with Christine.

“So...are you going to tell me what happened?”

“What _happened_?”

“At the library?”

“You studied. I composed.”

“Erik, _y_ _ou_ know what I mean!”

“You studied. I composed. That’s what happened at the library.”

Nadir just rubbed his temples in disgust. Sure, he loved the guy, but there were times when Erik could be so infuriating!

“Fine. Studied and composed, yup,” Nadir balked.

Under the mask Erik sheepishly grinned.

“ _What’s to tell, Nadir? I don’t exactly know myself! I heard the slightest sound...it summoned me, I followed it,_ _and it lead me straight to her_ _.”_

_Christine..._

* * *

When he and Nadir arrived home, Erik avoided familiar pleasantries, skipped dinner, and locked himself in his room.

He could no longer bear to hold the music in his heart to himself. There was no satisfaction just having the piece merely written. The music had to be performed. It had to be recorded. He was determined that he _must_ relive the whole experience.

Her beauty, gentleness, humility, and kindness were in concert with his violin.

His testament to her.

_Beauty’s compassion for the Beast._

* * *

The night always brought Erik comfort, and his music always brought him pleasure. Tonight, the darkness brought him no comfort. His hours-old composition left him feeling unfulfilled.

_Unfulfilled..._

There _had_ to be something at fault with the piece! He _had_ to scrutinize it—pick it a part line by line and note by note.

Getting out of bed, he plugged his headphones into his PC. As he listened, he couldn’t hear a single flaw. Not a single note misplaced. There was no need for revision. The piece was _perfect_...just as she was _perfect_.

He sighed as he removed his headphones. Laying back down he tried to force himself to get some sleep.

Yet, he still felt unfulfilled…

“ _What is wrong with me?”_ he questioned himself.

“ _You got it out of your system! It happened. It’s done. It’s all you could have ever hoped for! It’s **over**.”_

_But…_

“ _Over?...just like that?...it **can’t** be over...”_

He held his hand up in the darkness and slowly closed it into a relaxed fist, not able to let go of the reality that just hours ago her hand was in his. Her small, delicate hand in his...her touch...her _willingness_ to attend to him left him exhilarated.

“ _She touched me...she wasn’t afraid. She held my hand...she_ _was_ _ **concerned**_ _for_ _me.”_

An uncontrollable warmth rose in his chest as he remembered the sincerity in her eyes.

“ _She seemed to understand me...”_

Then, the demeaning harsh voice of rationalization took hold of him.

“ _She’s just a nice person. In truth, **I** could have been **anyone** …”_

“ _I’m_ _torturing_ _myself_ _over a girl!_ _I have t_ _hings to plan!_ _D_ _eadlines to meet!_ _I_ _’ve already wasted time_ _this evening_ _with this silly little_ _song_ _!_ _She’s a freshman. It was_ _happenstance in the library_ _and nothing more!”_

He exhaled putting his hand down on his chest. The warmth that he previously felt turned to iciness.

“ _I..._ _I_ _couldn’t even talk to her! She ma_ _de_ _me_ _distracted and...foolish...clumsy!_ _She did_ _something_ _nice, just leave it at that and think no more of her!”_

As he continued to obsess over their encounter, another painful thought occurred to him.

“ _I’m sure she has a nice_ _ **normal**_ _life...a mother...a father...a_ _stable_ _and loving home...”_

Bitterness and resentment hardened his heart.

“ ** _..._ _I_ _certainly_ _don’t fit in with any of_ _THAT!_ _”_**

* * *

First period: Advanced Placement Literature

Dr. Armand usually began the first 15 minutes of class with a question and answer session regarding a topic on the latest book assignment. He really wanted the upperclassmen to engage in their discussions of literature. After all, these students were college-bound, and they needed to be given broader range with their opinions and interpretations of the works. With only nine students in the class, he believed such sessions would be beneficial, rather than the humdrum of him lecturing them.

Erik and Nadir sat side-by-side as they waited for Dr. Armand’s morning topic.

Before Dr. Armand could address his small class,a small noise from the classroom’s door caught his attention.

“May I help you?”

“I’m so sorry, I had trouble finding the room.”

“ _T_ _hat voice…”_ A chill rose up Erik’s spine.

She walked into the room and presented Dr. Armand a slip of paper.

Erik eavesdropped as Dr. Armand quietly commented to Christine.

“...I must admit, I was not given any notification of your transfer to my class…”

Any calmness Erik had completely abandoned him. He felt his throat close and grow dry while his neck and shoulders tensed.

“ _Transfer?!_ _HERE!? DAMN IT!”_

He had finally resolved to himself the previous night that he would rid her from his thoughts once and for all; now, through a cruel twist of fate she was _here_?!

“It appears I have no choice, but to let you in, Ms. Daae,” Dr. Armand joked.

“Welcome to AP Literature!”

“Well, what do you know?” Nadir smiled to Erik.

Erik said nothing; rather, he glared at Nadir causing his smile to vanish.

“Please take a seat beside Mr. Belshaw or Mr. Khadem. They can acquaint you with themselves, and our current class assignment.”

Christine saw to whom Dr. Armand was referring... _the same boy_ _s_ _from the library last night_.

Erik Belshaw...

... _Erik Geiger-Belshaw…?!_

_He was still wearing a surgical mask..why?_

As Christine found her way to them, she softly smiled at Erik.

Brusquely, he turned his face away from her.

She could only surmise his reaction was his disdain for her; and again, she became all the more saddened. She failed to notice how he gripped the side of his desk so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Doing his best to temper Erik’s obvious cold behavior, Nadir warmly welcomed her.

“So, we meet again, Christine! What brings _you_ to AP Lit?”

“It was at the insistence of my guardian.I...I tested in. My whole schedule has been uprooted in just one day!”

“Your _whole_ schedule?” Nadir asked, now even more curious.

“I’m sorry, not my _entire_ schedule...it’s just so...overwhelming!”

“Don’t worry, Christine, you’ve got this! And we’ll help you...right _Erik_?”

By now, Erik had loosened his grip on his desk. He did his best to act as aloof as he could. He nodded indifferently as he attempted to highlight passages in his book. In truth, Erik was losing self-control. He could barely keep his hands from shaking as he grasped the book and highlighter.

Christine smiled to Nadir, but she could not ignore Erik’s blatant attitude towards her. She felt the blood draining from her face as her discomfort continued to grow. She assumed the worst of her fears of Erik to be true...

“ _H_ _e_ _ **does**_ _hate_ _at me, after all...”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos kind anonymous readers!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With love, my friend.
> 
> Here's a short chapter that popped into my head last night.

Dr. Armand brought the class to order. He divided the students into pairs with the exception of Erik, Nadir, and Christine. He wanted Christine to be with the strongest class participants that she may observe how the class discussions were conducted.

“Sorry for the brief delay,” Dr. Armand began.

“The topic of this morning’s discussion is Romanticism in _The Sorrows of Young Werther_. You all know the drill.”

“The...drill?” Christine looked to Nadir.

“We’re to discuss the topic of Romanticism for _The Sorrows of Young Werther._ Since you’re new to class, I guess you’ll have to catch up on the reading this weekend. Erik, Romanticism in _Werther._ Three, two, one...go!”

Erik looked at Nadir with imploring eyes.

“ _Please...Nadir, please don’t make me do this...”_

Nadir felt sorry for his friend; he truly did, but they were in class now! They _had_ to participate. Besides, to Nadir, this would be an excellent opportunity for Erik to impress Christine on an intellectual level!

“Come on, man! Don’t leave me hanging like this!” Nadir jokingly begged Erik.

Erik rolled his eyes in response.

“I, um...I think I may be able to contribute,” Christine interjected, as she took the library’s copy of _Werther_ from her book bag.

“The book is considered a semi-autobiography for Goethe, right? I mean, he _was_ experiencing an emotional breakup at the time. Goethe uses the Werther character to mirror his own romantic feelings at that time; therefore, Werther relies heavily on emotion over reason.”*

Astonished, Erik’s eyes darted in her direction and rested on her.

“ _Of course...she knows the material…”_

_How could she not continue to fascinate him?_

Nadir couldn’t hold back his amazement.

“Christine, I’m so sorry! I just assumed you didn’t read the book yet! Why didn’t you correct me, earlier?”

“Oh, no! It’s fine, Nadir. I...thought I would just try to help...did I do ok?”

“OK!? You are _AWESOME_! I didn’t even know that it was semi-autobiographical...did _you_ , Erik?”

Erik remained silent as he shot Nadir an irritated look.

Christine lightly blushed as she continued on, while not taking notice to Erik’s silent exchange with Nadir.

“A major piece to Werther’s personality is that he’s driven by passions of the heart not by logic...and...”*

“...his extreme passion and impossible emotions lead him to his own self-destruction,”* Erik quietly interrupted her.

“And... _he_ speaks!” Nadir shot Erik a smug look.

Christine slowly turned her head slightly towards Erik. She couldn’t understand it, but his voice captivated her. His soft, deep tone almost caused her to lose her focus.

Fear kept her from looking directly at him.

“ _Keep on task...keep talking…what did he say?…‘emotions lead_ _Werther_ _to his own self-destruction...’”_

Trying her best to keep her nerves steadied, she continued speaking while looking down at her book.

“Hmmm...yes...yes, that is true. In the era of Romanticism, individuals were powerless to society, so their melancholy was interpreted through works of literature. Consider how Werther’s love for Lotte only continues to become greater and more painful to him.”*

Christine tried to keep her hands from shaking as she flipped through the pages of her book.

“Here...so, for example, on August 18, Werther writes, ‘Must it so be that whatever makes man happy must later become the source of his misery...’”*

These words, caused an uncontrollable rage to burn within Erik. Christine could see his body tense from just above her book as she meekly looked towards him.

_...whatever makes man happy must later become the source of his misery…_

_...whatever makes **me** happy must later become the source of **my** misery..._

“ _N_ _O_ _!_ _ **You**_ _will never_ _become_ _the_ _source of_ _ **my**_ _misery_ _…_ ** _never_** _!”_

He had to get out of her sight. She made him anxious…too anxious. He felt as though he was trapped. He had to leave, and he had to leave immediately. Without warning, he grabbed his books and left the classroom. His aggressive undertaking and exit startled Christine.

“Mr. Belshaw!” Dr. Armand went after him into the hall.

Erik had vanished. There was no sign of him on either side of the hall, and for a boy of his height there was nowhere for him to hide. Confused and a bit unnerved, Dr. Armand returned to class, quickly wrote a note at his desk, and tried as best as he could to pretend nothing just happened as he advised the class to bring their discussions to a close.

Christine felt tears stinging her eyes as she looked down at her desk. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“I can’t help but feel...I mean...did...did _I_ upset him?” she choked back her tears as she whispered to Nadir.

“No! No, don’t worry about him, Christine! You didn’t do _anything_! He’ll be...fine,” Nadir reassured her.

“ _I’ve seen him_ _far_ _worse,”_ Nadir sadly thought, as he looked back at the classroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bond, Sonia. “The Sorrows of Young Werther (Romanticism Essay),” Boobs and Books. 2015. Retrieved via Google Search


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, wonderful guest readers, and thank you ashadeintheshade for your extremely encouraging and kind words!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With love, my friend.

Erik narrowly made his escape through the unmarked, unassuming door between the rows of lockers as Dr. Armand stepped out and scanned the hallway.

As Erik leaned his back against the door he clutched a key ring full of various sized keys in his left hand. His right arm released his books causing them to fall to the floor, as his right hand pulled down the surgical mask allowing him to catch his breath.

“ _...whatever makes man happy must later become the source of his misery…”_

The words repeated in _her_ voice as they haunted him. His hand tightly curled around the keys causing them to bite the flesh in his palm.

“ _You i_ _diot! She was only_ _citing_ _the book_ _!”_

But he could not deny how those words impacted him. Unconsciously, he gripped the keys tighter.

_...whatever makes **me** happy must later become the source of **my** misery…_

“ _She only sa_ _id_ _what was expected_ _of her_ _...but her presence_ _..._ _her being so close_ _...”_

He began to feel an uncomfortable moist, warm stickiness between his fingers and the keys. Blood had pooled and dripped between his palm and his fingers. He shoved the keys into his uniform jacket pocket, making sure to wipe off the blood on the inside seam.

He checked his watch and saw that first period would be over in 15 minutes.

Second period, AP European History.

“ _She said she test_ _ed_ _into AP Literature..._ _s_ _he_ _ **must**_ _have tested into European History,_ _as well_ _..._ _DAMN_ _IT_ _!...I don’t know what to do!_ _”_ _”_

Feeling overwhelmed, he sat down with his back still against the door.

“ _Nadir will help her along...he’ll see to it that she gets acclimated properly._ _If I were there, I would be useless_ _to her_ _!_ _I would_ _lose my thoughts..._ _my reason..._ _I just can’t face her..._ _I can’t_ _!...”_

The warmth of her smile flashed in his mind when she approached him and Nadir to take her seat in class. He held his chest as it tightened.

“ _S_ _he was only trying to be friendly..._ _and_ _ **I**_ _turned away from her! Oh, Christine,_ _I’m sorry! Please_ _forgive me!_ _”_

Slowly, he reached his hand to his face. His long fingers traced beneath his eyes.

Feeling the recess of where a nose should be, the hollowness of his cheeks, and his over-pronounced cheekbones, anger and frustration seized him.

“ _If_ _you_ _can’t face her now...then when?! She’ll be in_ _your_ _classes all year!_ _You’re_ _not some cowardly_ _fool_ _!_ _ **Accept it**_ _!_ _”_

He pulled his mask back over his face and stood up. He had to find out how much of her schedule was shared with his. Making sure the door was locked behind him, he started his journey beneath Paris High School.

* * *

When Henrí Geiger immigrated to America from France in 1860, his reputation as a young brilliant architect and custom builder immigrated with him. He completed his first built works (three houses in Paris) even before ending his studies from École des Beaux-Arts. In 1861, he took on a most challenging project—to design and build a school dedicated to higher-lever education. As a maestro of architecture, he set out on a radical journey into the unknown.*

The buildings’ edifices were scaled-down replicas strongly resembling the Institut De France (as the main building), the Jeu de Paume (as the gymnasium), and the Palais-Royal (as the Fine Arts and Letters building). The extravagant courtyard held a replica fountain of the Fontaine des Mers. Geiger’s designs made these buildings gems of sheer beauty and incredible ingenuity.*

The benefactor of the project was one of great wealth and influence (rumored to be Cornelius Vanderbilt), who had a very dedicated interest in Geiger’s works. Therefore, no expense was spared for labor, marble columns, marble staircases, gilded materials, imported wood, carved stone statues, and other exuberant materials.

Beneath the school a series of tunnels were built to house and maintain steam lines and sewerage.

The benefactor’s young daughter was so in love with the replica of the Palais-Royal building that she had a 25x14 ornate gilded mirror made, adorning its’ frame with various sized cherub angels and roses. Her request was it be placed back stage where the students would wait for their cues. The message relayed on her behalf to Geiger and his crew said, “That the students may give themselves a final moment’s glance!”

Geiger found the mirror exquisite; however, the building had other construction needs and installment priorities. On an unannounced visit to the school, the young Mademoiselle (and allegedly Mr. Vanderbilt, himself!) wished to see the mirror’s placement. In a chaotic rush to find a suitable place, an inexperienced workman intended to temporarily install the mirror over an entrance to one of the underground tunnels, given that the surrounding areas were still under construction. Mademoiselle so loved the location of the mirror's placement, it remained there permanently, thus causing the tunnel entrance to be sealed off for good and forgotten.

Academia Paris was completed in 1911. Shortly thereafter, the school was opened for student enrollment and education.

Geiger passed away in 1912 survived by his widow, five adult children, 14 grandchildren, and a sizable inheritance for each.

* * *

As the years progressed so did the school’s buildings. In 1939, a series of bomb shelters were created due to the rising paranoia of World War II. Underground safety escape routes varying in length were built* to the north, south, east, and west.*

To this day, two tunnel exits are located off the Paris campus. The first is on the north side of Webber Road, and the second is just off Leroux Street. The third is in the vicinity of the Palais-Royal building, and the final exit route was located in the outfield of Paris’s baseball diamond. Stairs leading out of the now sealed and long-buried tunnel are located just outside of the left field fence.* Presently, the stairs going into the ground are known as “The stairs to hell.” What these stairs are, and where they came from remains a mystery to Paris’s current students.

Shortly before 1970, fire destroyed the replicas of the Institut De France and theJeu de Paume buildings—sparing the replica Palais-Royal building and the replica Fontaine des Mers in the courtyard.

By 1975, all the ruins remaining were razed,* and construction for new more modern buildings were underway. Academia Paris had operated as a private high school and its’ shareholders decided that in order to continue to survive in the changing times that the school edifices needed to be modernized. Realistically, the cost to rebuild the replica buildings as they once stood was extremely expensive and out of the question. That idea was shot down immediately. With the new buildings, so too would be a new name, Paris High School (PHS). PHS would continue to operate as a private high school providing students with exemplary education for college prep.

Even with the razing and new construction, the old tunnels and bomb shelters remained largely undisturbed.* In fact, the remnants of the older buildings only added another layer to the underground, while new tunnels and their respective corridors were built containing new state-of-the-art power systems.

* * *

Today, the current official records and blueprints of Paris High School’s old tunnel system, bomb shelters and exits are not listed, nor illustrated.*

* * *

One day during Erik’s freshman year, he was practicing violin in one of the soundproof practice rooms until lunch. He was having great difficulty mastering Bach’s Chaconne from Partita in d minor, BWV1004. Growing ever frustrated with himself and the piece, he lost his temper and kicked an old piano bench into the wall. As he stomped his foot hard to the floor it felt hollow compared to where he had been previously standing while he practiced. Getting down on his knees to examine the area closer, he discovered a “trap door” beneath the carpet tiled floor.*

Quickly, he replaced everything as he found it, but was eager to find out what was in the dark tunnel just below his feet. The very next day, he brought with him a flashlight, replacement batteries, and a change of clothes.

Thus began his exploration.

Erik’s first discoveries were four separate sets of marble stairs. Seeing the beauty of the marble stairs motivated him to explore further.* Each day for a month, he would go to the practice room and climb through the “trap door.” The old lighting needed some fine-tuning, but he managed to get some of the old fixtures to work.

Realizing that there was never enough time to explore just during his independent practice, Erik told Nadir that he would have to miss lunch for a while because he had to practice. When Nadir offered to “keep him company” as he practiced he told Nadir there was no need because he needed to concentrate, and having Nadir there would be too distracting for him.

Now, with some additional time, he figured out how to gain access to other doors leading him into new areas.* A hole blasted in concrete at the bottom of one set of the marble stairs led to a network of tunnels under the administrative building, the gym, and the library.

After two months, Erik knew his exploration schedule would have to change yet again. He knew Nadir would start to grow suspicious of why he needed additional practice time, given that Nadir knew it took Erik no time at all to master his lessons.

Of course secrets had to be kept, and while it pained Erik, he couldn’t tell Nadir what he was doing. He would not put his best friend in such a risky position should one or both of them ever get caught.

Erik decided to break into the school at night. All ready an experienced master at the art of lock picking, getting into the school was easy. He planned his routes to avoid nighttime motion detecting sensors and any operating security cameras.*

These nighttime outings revealed to him the old bomb shelters and exits.* He found that one of the exits was just off the street where he lived, getting in and out of the underground far easier, much more convenient, and less illegal. He found passageways to parts of the Arts and Letters building long ago gone into disuse beneath the stage,* and a tunnel that lead to the back of the great gilded antique mirror back stage.

Another night he came upon a huge cavern of a walled-in bridge containing a small area of flowing water just beneath the courtyard.*

Before the summer of his sophomore year, he had become an expert at navigating the subterranean corridors, while surreptitiously acquiring keys for the “newer” underground areas.*

Other (and _now_ the most important) discoveries he made were the observation points through the grates and vents into the classrooms* and hallways.

* * *

Traveling through intense heat and a few angular turns later, the heat diminished and grew cool again.* Erik stood in the shadows of his observation point as he impatiently waited for second period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found it reasonable to make the building of Academia Paris take 50 years given the amount of replicas and all the finer details. To justify my timeline, I based it off of Hearst Castle, San Simeon. The building timeline was 1919 to 1947. Wikipedia. Retrieved via Google search.
> 
> Citations:
> 
> Dilks, Caitlin. “Secret Tunnels Reported On Campus.” High Life, vol LXXXVII, no. 7, 2004/2007, p. 1. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Herrera, Melissa. “Paranormal Activity In Anaheim High School.” Anaheim Exclusivo, October 31, 2018. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Stowell, Rich. “The Secret Tunnels of East High School.” Utah Stories, 2010. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Lammers, Austin. “Underneath the U: The Strange History Behind USD’s Tunnel System.” The Volante, 2019. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Lisickis, Robertas. “Six 14 Y.O. Students Accidentally Discovered Secret Tunnels, Spent 3 Weeks Planning A Candy Heist Before Chaos Ensued.” Bored Panda, March 2020. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Julia’s Album. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Martin, Hannah. “25 Must-See Paris Landmarks.” Arch Daily, 2016. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Nguma, Samuel. “40 Most Famous Architects of the 21st Century.” Archute, 2019. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Rosen, Don. “Infiltrating the Underground : L.A.'s Tunnels: A Passage of History and a Possible Link to Future.” Los Angels Times, 1986. Retrieved via Google search.  
> Various Wikipedia articles re: the architecture of Paris, France. Retrieved via Google search.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, ashadeintheshade! And thank you kind anons for the kudos! I appreciate the support! 
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With love, my friend.

After the bell rang for second period, Nadir and Christine walked down the hall together to AP European History.

“I don’t mean to bring this up again, Nadir, but...I can’t help but feel like I did something to upset Erik...and I don’t just mean _now_ in class...I mean last night…”

“Christine,” Nadir gently interrupted, “Please forgive Erik for his behavior today and last night, he is a bit...stand-offish when it comes to meeting new people.”

Not having to walk far, they stood outside the classroom door. Christine could not easily accept that being “stand-offish” as a legitimate answer.

“But, Nadir...”

“He doesn’t mean it, Christine...it’s...complicated. He...”

“Christine!” a voice called from within the crowd of students.

“Raoul! Hello!” Christine smiled, waving as Raoul made his way through the crowd of students.

“You weren’t in English...where were you this morning? Are you ok?”

“Oh, Raoul! I have so much to tell you!”

“Why aren’t you heading to Civics? I mean if you’re just stopping to chat with your friend...please don’t let me interrupt!”

“OH! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude! Raoul this is Nadir. Nadir, this is my friend Raoul.”

The two boys greeted each other amicably and shook hands.

“Nadir, you’re a senior, right? Maybe you know my brother, Philippe?”

Nadir thought for a moment, “Philippe...Philippe de Chagny’s your older brother?”

Raoul smiled with pride, “Yeah, he’s in JROTC…”

“Raoul, _this_ is my history class now. I’m in AP European History,” Christine blushed.

“What? How? Only upperclassmen are in AP classes. I’m so confused,” Raoul now stared down at the floor.

“Please tell me that your lunch is still fifth period! That didn’t change, did it?”

As she scanned her new schedule, she gleefully answered, “Yes! It’s still fifth period!”

“Great!” Raoul exclaimed with a sigh of relief.

“Then I’ll meet you in the courtyard, ok, Christine?”

“Yes! That sounds great!”

“Same place? By the water fountain?”

“Of course! I’m looking forward to it!”

“Me, too, Christine! I better go before the tardy bell rings! It was good to meet you, Nadir.”

Nadir smiled back at Raoul as he took his leave.

Paris High School’s vice principal, Mr. André, stood in the doorway deliberately clearing his throat attempting to get Ms. Sorelli’s attention.

Ms. Sorelli deliberately ignored Mr. André and refused to acknowledge him. Not one to read body language well, Mr. André finally called to her.

“Ms. Sorelli, could you please come into the hallway? It is a matter of great importance.”

With Ms. Sorelli out of the room the students began to socialize taking advantage of her absence. Nadir’s seat was close to the slightly opened door; therefore, he had no trouble overhearing the conversation.

“Erik Belshaw abruptly walked out of Armand’s class this morning. Armand said when he went out in the hall to go after him the boy just vanished. I couldn’t help but notice that Erik has not made it to second period. Should he decide to make an appearance, send him to my office immediately and Mr. Firmin and I will deal with him.”

“You have no control over these students!” Ms. Sorelli snapped at Mr. André.

“Perhaps, if you properly punished them, _especially_ Belshaw, instead of looking the other way, such incidents wouldn’t occur!”

Nadir rubbed the area between his eyes.

“ _Oh, Erik, why?”_

“Is...Erik in trouble?” Christine whispered to Nadir, as she too, could clearly hear the conversation.

“It appears so...and it’s no surprise, after leaving class the way he did!” Nadir groaned.

Christine saddened.

“Perhaps...perhaps, he didn’t feel well.”

Nadir kept a neutral look, “Perhaps…”

“ _Damn it, Erik!”_

Ms. Sorelli returned from the hall. When she entered the room, a great tension and unease seemed to form in her presence. The students instantly quieted down acting as through they were deathly afraid of her.

“Who are _you_?” Ms. Sorelli started at Christine.

Christine demurely approached Ms. Sorelli and handed her a slip of paper.

“What other disruptions are going to happen today? Ms. Daae, I was not given prior notification of your transfer into my class...but who am I? Just the teacher, after all! Take a seat.”

As Christine started to walk back to her desk, Ms. Sorelli stopped her.

“Oh, and Ms. Daae, here’s a copy of the class syllabus. The first test is on Monday. I hope you have a great ability to learn and retain things quickly, as you are aware, _this_ is an AP class. There are no exceptions.”

Christine returned to her seat feeling somewhat humiliated, as she felt all the eyes of the class watch her.

“Now that there shouldn’t be any more interruptions,” Ms. Sorelli began, “Ms. Daae, since you’re now a part of this class, perhaps you can enlighten us on the changing conceptions of French national identity and culture in the period since 1960.*”

Christine looked out at the class of unknown students, feeling her face flush. She was completely taken off guard by this question being specifically directed at her.

“I’m sorry…?”

“Really, Ms. Daae? I find it fascinating that you are able to test into this class, and now you are unable to answer one of the more topical questions! The changing conceptions of French national identity and culture in the period since 1960.”

Ms. Sorelli maliciously smiled at Christine.

Christine’s eyes focused on her desk. She grew extremely nervous as she attempted to answer.

“Um... World War II caused France to become...um...integrated into the global economy...um...beginning in the 1960s, France...um...experienced an increase in immigration mostly from former French colonies. France was afraid of losing its culture as a result of increased American influence...*”

“Ms. Daae, your answer is woefully inadequate,” Ms. Sorelli smugly interrupted.

“If you were to take the exam tomorrow you would score quite poorly on that free-response question. I do not understand _how_ you could have possibly achieved a score high enough to enter this class!”

The class kept quiet. Each student secretly hoped that they would not be called on next to be subjugated to Ms. Sorelli’s critical antagonizing.

Christine looked down at her desk, her hands clutching her uniform skirt nervously.

“ _Christine…”_

A gentle whisper in her ear caused her to shiver.Slowly looking up from her desk she could not control the silent tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Now, with regards to the test on Monday, I expect...CROOAAAAAK!”

The entire class jolted upon hearing the strange noise that appeared to be made by Ms. Sorelli.

Confused, Ms. Sorelli looked back at the class.

“As I was saying, you shall CROOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!”

The class began to chuckle.

“ENOUGH!” Ms. Sorelli shouted growing more agitated, “GET OUT YOUR CROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAK!”

At this point the class’s chuckles were only slightly muffled.

Nadir, disturbed by the sound looked towards Christine, who was equally horrified.

As Ms. Sorelli stood silent trying to regain her composure,the distinct sound of loud flatulence was heard.

The class finally broke out into uproarious laughter.

“WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?! WHO IS RES...CROOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAK!”

She scanned the class of laughing students unable to locate the disruptive troublemaker.

Flabbergasted,she began to walk around the classroom. Each step was accompanied by the sound of loud flatulence.

By now, the class was out of control.Students were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. One student had to take a hit from his inhaler because he couldn’t catch his breath. As the sounds got louder and more vulgar, Ubalto “Ubie” Piangi fell out of his chair and onto the floor doubled-over from fits of laughter.

Mortified and unable to regain control of the students, Ms. Sorelli abandoned the class.

“What the hell was _that_?!” Ubie managed to choke out, still laying on the floor laughing hysterically, accompanied by the other students’ laughter.

The only students who were not laughing were Nadir and Christine.

* * *

From his observation point, Erik could see into the hall outside of the classroom. When he saw Nadir and Christine approach the doorway, he felt the blood in his body freeze. He was correct about her testing in.

He quietly sighed, and knew that he _had_ no choice but to get used to it. Just as he began to feel a sense of calm acceptance, what he saw and _heard_ next infuriated him.

_Raoul!_

_I’ll meet you in the courtyard...same place?...By the water fountain?_

_I’m looking forward to it!_

Erik could not contain his jealousy.

That... _boy…_

“ _That... **insolent boy**!”_

“ _Her **friend**...Raoul...the younger brother of that arrogant prick, Philippe!”_

_Raoul de Changy._

“ _No doubt they will enjoy their time together by the fountain! She will sit_ _on the ledge_ _while the sunlight_ _caress_ _es_ _her face as_ _she smiles..._ _at_ _ **him**_ _.”_

Erik had no more time to agonize himself over these thoughts, when Mr. André suddenly appeared in the doorway summoning Ms. Sorelli out of the classroom. Erik switched his focus to them, especially when he heard Mr. André mention _his_ name.

_Should he decide to make an appearance, send him to my office immediately._

Upon hearing this, Erik had to stifle his laughter.

“ _Th_ _at_ _pompous ass! Him_ _ **and**_ _Firmin! What are they going to do to me? Feh,_ _t_ _hey know better_ _th_ _a_ _n to “punish” me!_ _Those two_ _incompetent_ _idiots know_ _ **I**_ _make them look good. What_ _ **could**_ _they possibly do?_ _It’s the same every time...”_

‘Now, see here, Mr. Belshaw, this school is one of prestige! High honor, you know! You simply cannot just do _th_ _at_ _bad thing_ …now, see to it you don’t it again...’

“ _No matter, I’ll handle those two imbeciles later.”_

When Erik turned his attention to the class, his anger only escalated.

“ _How DARE she!_ _Taking_ _Christine_ _off guard like that?_ _T_ _reat_ _ing_ _her_ _as if she were_ _some_ _simpleton!”_

He felt proud of Christine when she attempted to answer Sorelli’s baiting question, and clenched his hands into fists when Sorelli purposefully interrupted and berated her.

“ _How dare **you** humiliate her for your own twisted amusement!”_

As he watched her clutch her skirt in frustration, he ached to comfort Christine. He wanted to reassure her that she belonged there; that she was smart enough and deserving enough. Most of all he wanted her to know that she would have his protection. He held his hand out in the darkness as if he were attempting to lightly caress her cheek. Guiding his voice to her, he gently whispered her name.

“ _Christine...”_

When he saw her lift her head at the sound of her name, he saw her tears fall down her cheeks. Her anguish caused him to lose control of his reason.His eyes glowed amber in the darkness of the corridor as a sort of placid fury consumed him.

“ _You old_ _t_ _oad..._ _ **you**_ _ **old**_ _**bloviate**_ _ **d**_ _ **TOAD**_ _!”_

He navigated the corridor around the classroom to make sure each new sound he threw had just the precise impact on his target.

* * *

After sending Sorelli into a frenzy that resulted in her abandoning her own classroom filled with out of control students, Erik no longer held back his own crazed laughter.

“ _Oh, Sorelli! You pathetic,_ _old_ _bitter_ _woman! You will_ _ **never**_ _humiliate Christine again!”_

* * *

Christine turned to face the wall her chair rested against. She had to see for herself, make sure for herself that there was indeed no one, no physical body behind her. Just a wall. She could have sworn that she heard a maniacal sort of laughter directly behind her, and the sound of that laughter frightened her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citation:
> 
> *The College Board. “AP European History 2015 Free-Response Questions.” The College Board, AP Central,” 2015. Retrieved via Google search.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support and comments, ashadeintheshade, and for the kudos kind anons!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With love, my friend.

With Ms. Sorelli no longer at the helm of second period, the students took full advantage of their freedom.

“I don’t know what that was all about, but I’m sure glad it happened!”

Standing at six feet tall and nearly 300 pounds, Ubie finally picked himself up off the floor, stretched, and smoothed out his curly long beard. He was very outgoing, extremely jovial, and an all around likable guy. Many of the upperclass students who have known him since they were freshman referred to him as a giant Teddy Bear. He held a fullback position on the Paris High School Varsity football team.

When football season ended, he enjoyed singing tenor with the PHS Barber Shop Quartet, and also auditioned for and got leading roles in the Theater Club’s Winter and Spring Musicals along side his girlfriend, Cari Giudicelli.

“Welcome to class, young wanderer! I’m Ubaldo Piangi, “Ubie” for short,” he smiled as he approached Christine’s desk.

She stared at Ubie with a loss for words.

“You handled the creature teacher very well,” Ubie chuckled, as he theatrically bowed low.

“I commend thee...Miss...?”

“Christine,” she timidly smiled.

He could tell that Christine was still hesitant about him, so he continued to try to make her feel at ease.

“No need to be afraid here, Christine! We’re all victims... _all_ _of us_ , but...THIS GUY OVER _HERE_!” Ubie laughed as he pointed at Nadir.

Nadir stood up and stretched his legs.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, man,” Nadir grinned.

“Ahh! Don’t be _modest_ , bro! _You_ and _Belshaw_ are the anointed...speaking of...where is he? I don’t remember that dude ever missing class since freshman year!”

Nadir simply shook his head.

“Is...is Ms. Sorelli always so...unpleasant?” Christine cautiously questioned.

“ _Unpleasant?!_ You are far too nice, Christine! She’s an old nasty bitch with a huge chip on her shoulder! But to answer your original question; yes, she is _always_ unpleasant!” Ubie laughed.

“She only lightens up just an eeny weeny little bit with Belshaw, but that’s because he shuts her down most of the time! I think she resents him because he knows more than she does!”

“ _Again, about_ _Erik. Ubie believes he’s extremely intelligent…_ _where is he? Where did he go?_ _”_ Christine thought.

“But...what happened earlier? What was _that_?” she openly asked. 

“I don’t know, Christine. I’m just as confused as you are,” Nadir shrugged.

“Aw, Nadir, come on! Tell her the truth!” Ubie urged.

“The _truth_?” Wide-eyed, Christine looked to Nadir.

“This place is haunted as hell!” Ubie went on not waiting for Nadir’s response.

“Seriously, I’m not trying to scare you! This place dates back to like, the mid-1800s or something…people have seen stuff...heard stuff...there’s this stairway to hell in left field...literally goes straight into the ground leading to _no_ _where_!”

“It’s just an old historic building. There’s bound to be noises from it settling, and remnants left behind,” Nadir commented, not wishing to give anymore to the discussion.

Christine couldn’t shake the maniacal...ghostly...laughter from her mind, nor her name whispered in her ear.

Seeing that Christine was growing unsettled, Nadir tactfully switched the subject.

“How do you think the Varsity Phantoms will do this season, Ubie?”

“State Championships...as _always_!” Ubie winked.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Firmin’s stern voice cut through the students’ socializing, as he stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

All the students collected themselves and returned to their desks.

“I don’t know what happened in this classroom this morning, but there will be no more fooling around! From this point until the end of the period all of you will open your books, and independently review for your test on Monday.”

After Mr. Firmin walked out, Ubie spoke up.

“Oh! Of _course_ the test will _still_ be on Monday… (as he mimicked Ms. Sorelli’s voice) ‘No exceptions!’ It wouldn’t matter if the world was ending, Ms. Sorelli would still find a way to test us!”

The class laughed at Ubie, and just as quickly quieted down when Mr. Firmin stuck his head back through the door.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Your studies!”

* * *

From where Erik stood, he watched as Piangi introduced himself to Christine. Erik hated most, if not all, of his classmates, but in this one instance he could tolerate Piangi. The boy only wanted Christine to know that she was not the only student that Sorelli ever publicly humiliated. To Erik, this was acceptable. The boy did not make Christine feel uncomfortable, and to Erik that was what mattered most.

As Piangi told Christine the school was haunted, Erik could not help the mischievous grin that crossed his lips.

PHS happened to have some experiences that could not be explained. What made Erik snicker to himself was that these “hauntings” were done by a living boy with the head of death, and his know-how to properly disturb the audience. What these students did not realize was that there was more to come. This year being his senior year, he intended on making it a year for all of them to remember.

* * *

The students of AP European History couldn’t wait for the bell to ring to move on.

“What’s your next class, Christine?” Nadir asked as they walked down the hall together.

“Geometry. What about you?”

“I have to head in the other direction for AP Physics 2. I’ll catch up with you at lunch!”

As the two parted ways, Nadir hoped that when Erik came out from wherever he was hiding, he would do his best to show the poor girl just an ounce of civility before the end of the day.

* * *

Third period: Geometry

Lectures were had. Lessons were taught. Notes were taken. After the events of second period, Christine found Geometry a relief.Quiet and uneventful. Third period came and went without incident.

* * *

Erik skipped his own third period class, AP Calculus BC, in favor of being with Christine—even if he was in one of the hidden corridors.

He was pleased to see that her Geometry teacher stuck to teaching and learning. He thought to how he reacted at the sight of her tears in second period. Her pain caused him to feel emotions that he had never felt. Within those moments all he knew was that she was the most important thing in the world to him.

But…

He also had to be rational. As much as he wanted to, he knew that he could not stay watching over her from the corridors forever. He _had_ to attend his own classes sooner or later.

When Christine and Nadir were walking to third period they were not in a good location for him to hear their brief discussion. Not knowing where she would be fourth period, he assumed that it would have to be a freshman class. He decided it would be best to go to Orchestra fourth period.

Erik knew that he was going to get caught and be reprimanded. It was only a matter of when; and while he had no respect for PHS administration, he _did_ respect the Khadems. Pedar Bashir and Mâdar Ashti had continued to be very good to him. They adopted him, treated him as one of their own children, accepted him as a human being instead of the living monster he was. They knew of Erik’s extreme intelligence; therefore, when it came to Erik and his constant trouble making, he understood and knew why they would be disappointed in him for getting in trouble, yet again. He knew, like all the times before, he _would_ make it up to them.

* * *

Fourth period: Orchestra

When the bell rang for fourth period, Erik made his way through the corridors to the Fine Arts and Letters building. Traveling through the underground passageway beneath the stage, he went up through the “trap door” he discovered his freshman year and headed to the instrument lockers. He retrieved his violin and went to the rehearsal room.

As he entered through the back he saw the other students coming through the front entrance from the main hall. He took his seat as first chair, and when he began to warm up an ashen color caught the corner of his eye. He felt his blood drain from his face, as his arms, hands, and fingers lost all sensation. His violin suddenly became a heavy weight that he held in his arms.

“ _How? How is **she** here?”_

He watched her as she walked up to Mr. Reyer and presented him with that familiar slip of paper.

“ _She...she tested into Orchestra?! How? **HOW**?!”_

He felt himself growing anxious. He had no idea that she was musically inclined! He had to stay calm and somehow deal with this, this time without leaving. He rested his violin in his lap trying to keep his now restless legs calm. He stared down at his violin, focusing on one string at a time while he listened.

“Christine...Daae...Daae? I once knew a musician named Gustave Daae many years ago when I played in Europe. In fact, he and I played together in the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. We became friends, but when he resigned from the Orchestra sadly, we lost touch. I had found out through a network of mutual musicians that he had passed away. You’re _his_ daughter? Oh, Miss Daae, this is wonderful! Such a small world...and such an honor to have Gustave’s daughter in my class! He was truly an accomplished violinist! The community suffered a tremendous loss when he passed!”

Erik could not believe what he heard.

“ _Her father was an accomplished violinist?! Reyer **knew** him?!”_

_..._

“ _Her father...died.”_

_..._

“ _I...I didn’t know...”_

Instantly he felt remorseful for his angry and resentful assumptions of her family life.

“ _Christine...please, forgive my ignorance!”_

Mr. Reyer could not contain his joy.

“Miss Daae, you must play for me before class begins! Please, get your violin!”

“ _Violin?!”_

When Christine returned, she stood before Mr. Reyer with her back turned to the students as they shuffled in and prepared their instruments.

From memory she played Massenet’s “Meditation” from _Tha_ _ï_ _s_. As she played she moved gracefully to the music completely shutting out her surroundings.

She played one of the most beautiful and saddest pieces ever written for violin.* The way she played...with such _feeling_...such _devotion_. The music flowed through her and tightly embraced him. A lump formed in Erik’s throat as he tried to control his feelings.

The students were now fully assembled and listened to her playing from their seats. She opened her eyes and took in all the students staring at her. Immediately, she stopped playing and blushed brightly.

“I’m sure you would like to begin class now, Mr. Reyer,” she quietly said, as the students applauded.

“Ms. Daae! That was positively enchanting! I must beg your indulgence for one more piece!”

Mr. Reyer went into his office and quickly returned with sheet music for Mozart’s “12 Duette,” _Op.70_ , duet for violins.

“Mr. Belshaw has needed a partner for these...please…between the two of you pick out one of the twelve. I would love to hear the two of you play just one duet before we start.”

He handed her the music and indicated that she go to Erik.

At the sound of his name, Christine felt her body grow cold. She slowly turned and looked up into the class. When her eyes found him, she clutched the sheet music in her hands. She felt her heart pounding in her throat.

Erik stood up from his seat. This time, his height intimidated her. He must have been at least six feet four inches...maybe even taller! She could not push away her anxiety.

As she cautiously approached him, he continued to stare down at his violin.

She walked up the aisle, up the staggering platform steps, and with shaking hands tried to place the music onto the music stand, but her shaking was so intense that some of the sheets fell to the floor. Before she could recover the fallen papers, Erik began to play without her.

Ignoring the fallen music, she panicked as she quickly brought her violin to her chin and tried to figure out where and what part of the duet she was supposed to play based on where he was in the music.

Seeing him for the first time since this morning, now being dwarfed by him, attempting to sight-read Mozart, and trying to locate where he was in the music overwhelmed her.

As he played, she was drowning in her mistakes. Her insecurities burned every fiber of her being. She felt the heat of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. Her mind reeled as she felt that his actions were deliberate. How could they not be? Instead of them playing a duet, he was making it impossible for her to catch and keep up with him.

She continued to make mistake after mistake, as he continued playing flawlessly.

She could see all the students heads turned and staring in their direction. She felt eyes burrowing into her—her mind exaggerating the sound of laughter causing her to imagine that _all_ were laughing, pointing, jeering at _her_...even Mr. Reyer couldn’t control his hysterics!

She couldn’t take the humiliation one second longer. She stopped playing, and laid her violin and bow down onto the folding chair, nearly dropping them.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just can’t!”

She scurried from the room, desperately trying to conceal her falling tears.

Erik froze. As he watched her flee from the room, he saw the tears in her eyes. His long fingers tightly gripped the neck of his violin as he clenched his jaw in frustration.

“ _ **I hurt her**_ _..._ _ **again**_ _!_ _ **AGAIN**_ _!”_

As her pain tore through him, he lost control of his own silence when he called after her.

“Christine!”

Erik started to go after her, only to be stopped by Mr. Firmin as he blocked the main entrance.

“So, Mr. Belshaw, you decided to finally attend class, eh?”

Mr. Firmin smugly stared at Erik, as Erik’s eyes grew dark.

"Young man, it's time to take a trip to my office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Citation:
> 
> Roberts, Maddy Shaw. “12 Sad Violin Pieces That Will Make You Weep Uncontrollably.” The World’s Greatest Music: Classical FM: Digital Radio 100|102 fm, 2019. Retrieved via Google search.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos KDEliott and kind anons! I am so thankful to all the readers who are taking this journey with me!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With love, my friend.

Christine secluded herself in the nearest restroom and let out an uncontrollable sob. She could not stop the tears from falling, nor could she hold herself back from from breaking down.

“ _Why? Why does he hate me so much? What have I done? I only met him just last night... **just last night**! And he’s making my life a living hell!”_

“ _His eyes showed me such warmth...at one point they even seemed to smile at me! At...at least, I thought they did…”_

“ _He humiliated me! He deliberately made me look like...like a fool in front of everyone!”_

She sat on the radiator close to the frosted window and held her face in her hands while she sobbed.

A banging noise caused her to look up from her hands as a stall door was flung open.

Standing there was a petite girl dressed in a PHS uniform, adorned with chains, over-sized safety pins, and swags of black fabric pinned to the uniform jacket. She wore torn fishnet stockings and black knee-high chunky-soled combat boots with vines of burgundy roses embroidered on them. Her hair was dyed in a peacock tone: bright royal blue as the base, and layers of highlights full of emerald green, royal purple, and shades of golden brown down to her shoulders. Her round face was lightly painted white, and her eyes were outlined with thick black eye liner accented by long black eyelashes. She had traced fancy designs around her eyes of swirls and half circles that extended past her eyes.

Resting between her black and blue painted nails was a cigarette.

“Are you ok?”

As she took a drag she looked at Christine, and pulled from her black shoulder bag a pack of cigarettes and offered it to Christine.

Christine began to frantically wipe away her tears.

“Oh, no. No thank you.”

“Suit yourself...and before you say _anything_ , yeah, yeah, yeah, I know they’re bad foe me. But these things have always helped me through my stressful times.”

Christine blankly stared at the girl.

“Seriously, are you ok?”

“It’s just...it’s just been a horrible day.”

“Heh! Welcome to the rest of your life at Paris High School,” the girl sarcastically responded.

Christine frowned.

“Don’t pay any attention to me...I live in gloom and doom...it’s kind of my thing,” the girl said half-jokingly as she slowly spun around demonstrating her look.

A small smile crossed Christine's lips.

“I’m Meg, by the way.”

Meg threw her cigarette butt into the toilet and flushed.

“Christine.”

“You new around here?”

“Freshman.”

“Oh, you poor kid…”

“Why? What year are you?”

“Junior...and I lived to tell about it,” Meg smirked.

“I always hated it here. I guess, I shouldn’t be so _negative_ , huh? There are a couple of exceptions, Dance Club, Art Club, and Orchestra. I used to like Theater Club, but not so much any more. Probably going to quit this year.”

“Orchestra? But...isn’t that happening now?”

“Meh, I had to finish my cigarette first. Where are _you_ supposed to be?”

“Orchestra…”

“Are you sure? You weren’t there all week...were you? Sorry, I tend to ignore a lot of these assholes, so I don’t usually notice...um, no offense, I’m not saying _you’re_ an asshole…”

“No, today was my first day, and I may make it my last…”

“Oh? I don’t mean to pry, and it’s none of my business...but would you like to talk about it?”

Christine looked at Meg uncertain. She didn’t know this girl at all and wasn’t sure if she could trust her.

“Do you mean that? I mean...I would like to talk to someone because I really don’t have anyone else here to talk to. I’m not going to see my friend until lunch...and I don’t think I want to tell him what’s been going on.”

Meg smiled as her teeth gleamed through her royal purple lipstick.

“Of course I meant it! If I didn’t give a shit, I would have just finished smoking and left you here. You really seem upset, and well, dealing with sadness is also sort of my thing.”

Meg was extremely sarcastic, but she also had a big heart.

“I don’t want to bother you…” Christine quietly started.

“Bother me! Out with it!”

“My guardian believed that I should be in higher than freshman level courses...she was very insistent with Mr. Firmin that I be moved into AP level classes.”

“Whoa! As a freshman?”

“Yes, so I had to take a bunch of exams the month before school started. When we didn’t get the results back all month, it was time for school to start. I just figured I failed them. I stuck to the class schedule I was given, but my guardian was insistent that I be prepared. That the results would come in and that I should be ready. I listened to her and started obtaining a few of the AP course materials. Then, just last night, Mr. Firmin gave me the test results…”

“JUST LAST NIGHT?! After a month of making you wait?! What the hell!? My mother always said Firmin and André are two FUMUs!”

“What’s a FUMU?”

“Fuck up, move up.”

“Oh!...um, well...I scored high enough, and Mr. Firmin told me to begin my new schedule today. It’s just been a disaster! None of the teachers were informed of me even being transferred into their classes.”

“Whoa! So you’re extremely smart! Good for you, little bookworm! I wish I was smart!”

Christine blushed.

“So, you said that _none_ of the AP teachers were made aware of your transferring into their classes? What classes?”

“Literature and European History.”

“Ah, ok, that’s Dr. Armand and Ms. Sorelli. I’ve heard that Dr. Armand is really cool...knows his stuff and is an amazing teacher, but Ms. Sorelli…”

“Yes, second period was...different…”

“She’s a real bitch! Not just as a teacher, but out of the classroom, too! My mom can’t stand her!”

“Just now, in Orchestra…”

“What happened?! Mr. Reyer is a giant sweetheart... _he_ didn’t do this to you, _did he_?!”

“Oh no! No! Mr. Reyer _is_ a sweetheart...it was...I mean, it…”

“OUT WITH IT! Who did this to you!? I’ll take care of them!”

“What if he’s a friend of your’s? I really don’t want to upset anyone.”

“All the more reason for me to kick his ass and then not be friends with someone like that! Let me think...who am I friends with in Orchestra? Mmmmm, NOBODY.”

“You’re...um, really intense, Meg.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“Erik,” Christine said almost in a whisper.

“ERIK?”

Meg’s voice echoed through the bathroom, then she quickly quieted herself.

“Erik? Erik Belshaw?” _He_ made you _this_ upset?”

“Please...don’t say anything! I appreciate your concern, but…”

“Christine, you don’t understand what I mean. Erik doesn’t bother _anyone..._ _ **ever**_. He’s the weird quiet kid. Extremely intelligent, very talented, but socially awkward as fuck! He’s like a musical genius! He’s written a ton of musical scores to like, really famous Oscar-winning movies! But no one knows a thing about him. I mean there’s rumors, but I don’t pay any attention to that bullshit.”

“Extremely intelligent? Very talented? Socially awkward...well, that’s kind of true now that I think about it...but he has a friend…”

“Nadir?” Meg interrupted.

Christine did not notice the goth’s cheeks starting to blush through the white foundation.

“Yes. He speaks to Nadir…”

“From what I understand, Nadir and his family adopted Erik.”

“Adopted?”

“Yeah, so it’s not like they’re just best friends, they’re like brothers.”

“Adopted?” Christine curiously repeated.

“Again, I really don’t know, but my understanding is he had an extremely terrible home life. _I_ only know him from being here at school...and when I say “know him,” I mean “know of him.” The only interactions I’ve sort of had with him have been this week in Orchestra. When I was a freshman he and Nadir were sophomores. I did color guard my freshman year, thought it would help with my dancing...and my mom wanted me to. That’s when...when I met Nadir.”

Meg said Nadir’s name in hushed tones compared to the rest of her story.

“Meg, he was...I don’t even know how to explain it. But I just felt humiliated in Orchestra. Mr. Reyer asked us to play a duet and Erik just...just left me behind…”

“Wait wait wait! Mr. Reyer asked you to play a duet with Erik? Violin?! Girl! You must be _really good_ for Mr. Reyer to ask you to play with Erik…”

“I...I’m not that good…”

“From what you just told me, I think I’m going to disagree. You don’t understand, Christine! Like, Erik is a virtuoso! Honestly, he doesn’t belong in a high school band. He should be playing for some philharmonic orchestra in Europe or something! Mr. Reyer even knows it! He’s said as much!”

Christine still could not understand.

“Nadir said the way Erik was acting was just “stand-offish…”

“WAIT! You _spoke_ with Nadir? Are you friends with him?”

“I...I think so…”

Christine was still oblivious to Meg’s reactions regarding Nadir.

“Look, if Erik is what’s got you this upset and Nadir told you that about him, trust Nadir, he _would_ know! Nadir is an honest guy, and he knows Erik better than anyone here.”

“Well, you did say he was socially awkward...but that’s no excuse, Meg! He was...just so rude to me.”

“See, I don’t know about you, Christine, but I don’t take shit from anybody. I’d confront him and tell him to fuck right off with that.”

“Well...I wouldn’t go _that_ far, Meg,” Christine demurely objected.

“Why not? People should know what makes you upset, and it’s not right to be rude to someone...especially if you don’t even know what _you_ did wrong in the first place!”

Christine sighed.

Meg could not comprehend why Christine just couldn’t confront Erik and tell him how she was feeling.

“I guess I’m not like you, Meg; but you’re right, I should say something to him...sooner or later.”

“That’s my girl!” Meg made a high five motion to Christine.

“Now that it seems like you’re feeling a bit better, why don’t we go to class?”

“Oh! Oh, yes! Class! By the way, I forgot to ask, what instrument do you play, Meg?”

“Double bass,” Meg smiled as they walked out of the restroom.

* * *

Erik sat in front of Mr. Firmin’s desk.

Mr. Firmin sat at his desk while Mr. André stood beside him.

“As you know, leaving in the middle of class without permission Mr. Belshaw is improper and will need to be punished,” Mr. Firmin began.

“Explain yourself, young man!”

Erik remained silent.

Growing impatient, Mr. Firmin turned to Mr. André.

“Mr. André what would you propose?”

Mr. André rubbed his chin for a moment.

“Something quite suitable, something that should indeed fit the action.”

Mr. André couldn’t come up with a single thing.

“Yes, yes of course something suitable. Detention is not a fitting punishment,” Mr. Firmin commented.

“Oh no, detention is far too lenient,” Mr. André bellowed.

“I believe this warrants a phone call home...Mr. André, please have my secretary call Mr. Khadem.”

Erik could not contain his annoyance, nor could he hold back his anger.

“ _You will do no such thing!”_

He removed his surgical mask and stared down the two men, as they stared back at him unable to hide their revulsion.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Jana_Jackson1995, and kind anons for your kudos! I truly appreciate all your support!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With love, my friend.

_Now_ was not the time to get caught.

His mind roared.

“ _ **NOT NOW!** ”_

He hurt her. He caused the tears in her eyes because of _his_ own selfish lack of control. Her tears tore his soul in half, and he could not stop how remorseful he felt.

“ _She_ _ **must**_ _hate me now…_ _ **I**_ _would hate me!_ _I_ _would..._ _ **I**_ _**have**_ _...gotten_ _revenge on_ _ **ever**_ _ **yone**_ _who_ _has_ _ever_ _crossed me!”_

“ _But...s_ _he’s not that way. She’s not like me..._ _she’s not_ _a_ _vengeful_ _monster..._ _she’_ _s_ _a_ _compassionate_ _angel. An angel to whom I must beg forgiveness...”_

“ _Christine! I did try to go after you...THEY kept me from you, and THEY **will** be punished.”_

* * *

Mr. Firmin and Mr. André did not hide their horror and revulsion at the sight of Erik’s exposed face. It was not the first time that they had seen him unmasked, but each time they did, they were always overwhelmed with disgust and their inability to withhold their blatant prejudice.

Erik had always restrained himself in front of them when he had been caught over his mischievous innocuous deeds. When he had been caught, he always kept his patience, tolerated their ineptitude, and quietly accepted whatever light punishment was given him.

Now, Erik stood up full height from his seat, towering over both Mr. Firmin and Mr. André as he contorted his face into a grotesque sneer. His upper lip curled over his teeth only enhancing his face’s skull-like appearance. His eyes became far darker than they were as the amber glowed with such abhorrence and contempt as he glowered at them. He knew just how to enhance their fears of him, and bring them to such levels of discomfort that they would want to be physically rid of him.

His annoyance and impatience with their back-and-fourth patronizing enraged him. He slammed both of his hands on Mr. Firmin’s desk causing both men to jump.

“I’ve had enough with your games!” his voice only grew deeper with his rising anger.

Out of fright they stared directly into his eyes as he leaned into Mr. Firmin’s desk.

“Now...nownow...see here...ththththis school is one of prestige! Honor! Yyyyyyyou simply cannnnnot just walk out of clclclclass,” Mr. Firmin stammered.

“Ssssee to it you ddddon’t it agagagagain,” Mr. André nervously followed.

Erik’s eyes squinted as he glared at them. The amber in his eyes burned brightly. His face gave the appearance of a skull with fire glowing in its eyes. They turned their faces from him not able to take the sight of him any longer.

“Leleleave Mr. Belshaw,” Mr. Firmin weakly ordered.

Erik took his surgical mask out of the chair where he previously sat and placed it over his face, grabbed his books, and left without another word.

* * *

“DAMN THAT FUCKING, _KID_!” Mr. Firmin shouted as he slammed his fist against his desk.

“His..face…every time...every DAMN TIME!” Mr. André responded equally flustered.

“This isn’t over.”

“Do you think he had anything to do with Ms. Sorelli’s experience?” Mr. André asked thinking aloud.

“I have absolutely no doubt _HE_ had something to do with it! One of his little “pranks.” Only, there’s no damn proof! The little... _bastard_! Get Reyer on the intercom, NOW!”

* * *

Erik returned to Orchestra. Class had ended. When Erik arrived there were no students in the rehearsal room. Fifth period was Mr. Reyer’s planning time. He usually ate his lunch in his office and did not mingle with the other teachers.

Sometimes, Mrs. Giry, Dance Instructor, and Theater Choreographer would join him, but not today. Erik found Mr. Reyer alone playing his violin in his office.

“Mr. Reyer…”

Erik had startled the poor man.

“Erik! My boy! You scared the bejeezus out of me!”

“I’m sorry for everything, Mr. Reyer. In class...I...”

“Oh no, my boy! No! It is I, who should apologize...and I did so, profusely to Ms. Daae when she returned…”

“ _She returned...she came back…”_

Relief washed over him.

“It was _I_ who was in the wrong! I should have waited till _after_ class to ask you both to _consider_ playing Mozart’s Duets! Instead, I just let my emotions take over after her interpretation of Massenet’s “Meditation.” Her playing it was…was...”

“...exquisite,” Erik quietly responded.

“Yes! Exquisite! I have never heard someone so young play such a difficult and emotional piece...oh no! No! I’m sorry, she’s the _second_ young person I’ve heard…” Mr. Reyer looked at Erik and smiled.

“You owe me no apology, Mr. Reyer. It is I who should be apologizing...to _her_ ,” Erik sighed, ashamed.

“It seems we both let our emotions get the better of us,” Mr. Reyer continued with a weak smile.

Erik went out into the rehearsal room to retrieve his violin. Fifth period was also his lunch, but he usually stayed in the confines of the practice rooms or on his own. Often Nadir would join him there, but most of the time, Nadir enjoyed being around people. Erik never resented him for that. Having lunch with your fellow students was the _normal_ thing to do.

Today, Erik decided that he would not make a public appearance for lunch. He knew Christine would be with...would be all right. He _would_ apologize. He _would_ make it up to her. He swore this to himself.

“Um, Erik, just one more thing. I was contacted by Mr. Firmin and Mr. André before you arrived,” Mr. Reyer stood at the bottom of the staggering platform steps.

Erik turned to face Mr. Reyer as a dark smile overtook his eyes.

“So, those two cowards have you doing their dirty work for them, do they?”

“Well, it is _their_ punishment, but it does involve me given the task.”

“How?”

“You are to stay after school today, pull out all the school-owned string instruments from storage, clean them, restring them, tune them, and any other work that needs to be done.”

“ _All_ of them?”

Mr. Reyer sighed, “Yes, all of them. What you do not finish tonight, you will stay every day after school until the task is complete.”

Erik quietly laughed to himself.

“And just how am I supposed to accomplish this task?”

“You know what to do, Erik...you did it before in your free time your sophomore year. I’ll inform Mr. Buquet that you will be using the stage to lay out the instruments this afternoon.”

“Very well,” Erik acknowledged, unaffected.

“I’ll be here immediately after seventh period.”

“Erik, you’re on the road to do such great things! You’ll be Valedictorian this year! You’ll have the world of academia at your feet! Please, don’t ruin it all just for a little rebelling,” Mr. Reyer encouraged.

Erik nodded. He knew that Mr. Reyer was a good man. He truly respected him and liked him very much. He was an excellent musical mentor and encouraging soul.

As Erik began to take his leave of the rehearsal room, the main entrance door swung open.

“I knew I’d find you here! Where the hell have you been?!” Nadir called across the room.

* * *

The two boys went into one of the sound-proof practice rooms.

Nadir took a seat on one of the folding chairs, as Erik attempted to sit on the piano bench, but he could not remain still.

“Erik, you owe me an explanation. I won’t let you get out of it, not this time.”

Erik’s eyes burned brightly out of embarrassment and confusion. He had trouble making eye-contact with Nadir.

“This is difficult for me...honestly! I don’t quite understand any of it myself!”

“Try. Try as hard as you can, Erik. I know something’s wrong, but I can’t help you if you don’t _tell_ me! It’s not fair for me to have to assume, and then try to fill in the blanks.”

Erik stood up and began to pace the small room.

“It’s...it’s Christine.”

As Erik began, Nadir kept his face neutral.

“From the first moment I saw her, I...I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. In the library last night...I acted so foolish! I couldn’t find my voice! I lost my composure! When she...she took my hand in her’s...her hand was so small...so delicate. She...she wasn’t disgusted by the sight of my hands...she showed _me_ compassion...”

He held up both of his hands and stared at them remembering her touch.

“Erik! You’ve hurt yourself…again...?” Nadir began to stand, concerned seeing the dried blood on the inside of his left palm.

Erik simply waved him off and continued.

“She asked _my_ permission to...to touch _me_! No one has ever...she cared about how _I_ felt! Nadir, she’s...beautiful... _interesting_. I...I don’t know what _this_ is! I don’t know what’s wrong with me!?”

Nadir tried to hide his smile.

“It’s called having a crush, Erik.”

“A...a crush?” Erik seemed perplexed by the word’s meaning.

“Can it be stopped?”

“ _Stopped_? I don’t think liking someone can just stop! It means you have feelings for her, Erik. You like her. You’re attracted to her. That just doesn’t... _stop_.”

“Hmmmm, that seems...accurate,” Erik agreed, beginning to ponder these feelings.

Nadir smiled, but only briefly as he quickly grew serious.

“Erik, having a crush on Christine is no excuse to get up and leave class!”

“I _panicked_! She...she...I...was nervous to be around her…” he whispered, embarrassed.

“Where did you go? You ‘vanished.’ That was the word Mr. André used…”

Erik stayed silent.

“FINE! If you don’t want to tell me... _fine_! Keep your secret! But you must tell me the truth, _you_ were responsible for what went down in second period.”

Without pause, Erik stared Nadir defensively in the eyes.

“ _ **She**_ humiliated Christine! _**She**_ made her cry…”

Nadir’s stern expression softened, as he began to understand.

“...but then... _ **I**_ made her cry in orchestra…”

“She’s in orchestra?!”

Ignoring Nadir’s question, Erik continued to lament.

“ _ **I**_ caused her pain...she left class in tears...because of _**me**_!”

“How, Erik? How?”

“Reyer asked us to play Mozart’s “12 Duette,” _Op.70_ , without any preparation. _**I**_ played on without her. _**I**_ caused her to make mistakes. _**I**_ caused her humiliation in front of everyone. _**I**_ am no better than that _old toad_ ; rather, _**I**_ am...a demon that hurt...an angel.”

“Erik, stop with all that nonsense! You’re not to talk that way about yourself, do you hear me!”

“Oh, Nadir. You are kind and selfless, yet so naive. But worry not! I have been appropriately punished for my indiscretion for first period.”

“How so?”

“I am to stay after class today, pull out all the school-owned string instruments from storage, clean them, restring them, tune them, and whatever else needs to be done.”

“ _All_ the string instruments?”

“What I do not finish tonight, I will stay every day after school until the task is complete.”

Nadir sighed.

“Have you seen Christine since Orchestra?”

“No.”

“Erik. If you see her again today...please...be civil to her!”

“How? I...I don’t know how!”

He finally sat down and held his head in his hands.

“ _T_ _ell_ her that she didn’t do anything to upset you. Just as she showed you kindness, show her kindness in return...maybe apologize for startling her in first period…”

“...I startled her?”

“She, um, she did ask me if she did something to upset you…”

“DAMN IT!” Erik shouted, standing up and pounding his fists against the top of the upright piano.

“Nadir...I...I’m not like you! Don’t you understand? I don’t know how!”

“Give yourself a chance, Erik, before you completely ruin something that hasn’t even had a chance to start!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos kind anons! I appreciate all of you who take time out and give this little AU a chance!
> 
> Full disclosure: Sadly for me, I do not and cannot speak French. Also sadly for me, I do not and cannot write or read French. All French dialogue is completely from Google Translate: English to French. Therefore, if there are mistakes, inaccuracies, or full out "it's all wrong" dialogue, I apologize in advance! I provided the English dialogue in italics below the French.
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and cannon. As always, with love, my friend.

As Christine and Meg headed back to the rehearsal room, Meg stood in front of Christine just before they got to the entrance, and placed her hands on Christine's shoulders. Meg’s platform boots almost made her the same height as Christine.

“Are you going to be ok going in there?”

“I’m...I’m not sure.”

“Take it from a master in the art of the fuck-off face, Christine. Nothing says ‘fuck-off’ like a good death glare. Make sure you stare directly into his eyes while thinking, ‘don’t mess with me, bitch!’”

“Death glare? Um...I think I’ll just ignore him, Meg.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure, you could do that, too...but it’s not nearly _as_ effective.”

“Look, just want you to know that whatever happens in there, I have your back, ok?”

“Thanks, Meg. I...really appreciate that.”

“Be strong...you _are_ strong!”

Christine gently smiled at Meg’s encouraging words, while still not feeling so sure.

When they entered the orchestra was in the middle of playing Bernstein’s _Divertimento for Orchestra_ 18’. Christine immediately saw that Erik was not sitting in his seat. Relieved, she discreetly took the chair where she had left her violin. Meg had slunk back to the bass sting section, where she stood on a step-stool in order to play her double bass. Mr. Reyer brought no attention to them and continued on.

When rehearsal time ended the students were scattered putting away their instruments. Mr. Reyer took the opportunity to approach Christine.

“Ms. Daae, please accept my sincerest apologies for earlier! It was wrong of me to ask you to play a duet with Mr. Belshaw with no preparation.”

“I...I’m sorry I ran out of class...I…” she tried to explain.

“Don’t worry about that. I do thank you for returning,” Mr. Reyer reassured her.

“Mr. Reyer, I...I don’t think I belong in orchestra…maybe I’m just not ready…” she held onto her violin tightly.

Mr. Reyer quickly picked up on her insecurity, and noticed how her violin was aged and worn. He made a mental assumption regarding the violin, and decided to appeal to Christine’s emotion.

“Is your violin precious to you?”

“It was my father’s.”

Mr. Reyer sat beside Christine and thoughtfully smiled.

“Ah! Just as I suspected.”

“The choice is _your’s_ to make, Ms. Daae, but I beg of you to please not let this incident taint your perception of this class! I would like you to know that you are fully capable of performing the music in this class. Your father would be so proud of you for coming so far in your music.”

Christine felt hot tears begin to form in her eyes.

“Can I please have some time to think it over...over the weekend? I’m sure I would have to make my decision quickly for class scheduling...I feel like it’s all been a huge mess all ready.”

“Of course! Of course! I _do_ hope you stay. You play so beautifully. It would be a shame on me if I lost such a talented musician!”

Meg stood silently in the background smiling and nodding in agreement with Mr. Reyer.

* * *

Fifth Period: Lunch

“So, lunch with the normies…” Meg smirked as she stood next to Christine looking out into the courtyard.

“I’m meeting a friend of mine out by the fountain. Would you like to join us?”

Meg mimicked the actions of a vampire when exposed to sunlight.

“Thanks, but no. I burst into flames in direct sunlight.”

Christine chuckled.

“Enjoy your lunch with your friend, Chris! I’ll stick to the inside. Besides, I’ve got some sketches for art class I need to work on anyway.”

“Thanks for everything, Meg!”

“Just one more thing! Don’t you dare tell anybody that I can be nice...it’ll ruin my reputation,” Meg whispered chuckling.

“I promise,” Christine smiled and waved as she went out into the courtyard.

As Meg turned to head to the art studio, a tall blonde boy bumped into her hard.

“Ow!”

She held her arm.

“Watch where you’re going, freak ass!”

The boy was with a large group of friends. Most of them were dressed in Junior Reserve Officers' Training Corps uniforms. Others were the “upper echelon” of the popular girls amongst the upper-classmen.

Meg instantly recognized the boy. She wasn’t going to let this situation get away. Taking him completely off guard, she grabbed the boy intensely by his jacket, and looked seductively into his eyes.

“OOOOOOOOhhhhhh Philippe! Or…should I say, Cadet de Chagny? You make me so...mmmmm...you know I just _love_ it rough! Cadet de Chagny, do want to know a secret?” she seductively whispered near his ear.

Backing away she let her tongue slowly lick over her top teeth, as she looked passionately in his eyes and whispered, “You _a_ _re_ and always _will be_ a giant asshole.”

She then abruptly cast him off by pushing him back while walking backwards laughing hysterically at his reddened face. To further compliment her exiting strut, she threw up two middle fingers at him as she left the hall.

* * *

Christine made her way out into the courtyard and headed towards the fountain. She saw Ubie with a large group of friends. He sent her a friendly hello wave. When Christine returned the gesture an upper-class girl hugging on Ubie shot her an extremely dirty look. Christine did not know many upper-classmen, so she was perplexed as to why she would encounter such a glare. Shaking it off, she continued towards the fountain.

Raoul was all ready at their meeting spot, and from what she could tell from his facial expression, he had been there for a while.

“ _How late am I…?”_

Christine looked at the great clock post in the courtyard and saw that only fifteen minutes remained for lunch!

“Finally! Christine what took you so long?”

Raoul was clearly disappointed.

Christine sat down beside him without looking at him and sighed.

“Oh, Raoul, it’s just been…”

“How did you end up in AP classes as a freshman? When did this happen? Did you know? Christine, when were you going to tell me?” he interrupted.

Honestly, all she wanted to do was cry all over again. She had had enough of _th_ _is_ day. Meg was a huge help, but what else was she going to encounter? She has one more AP class this afternoon, and somehow she just knew _he_ would be there.

“ _What else could go wrong today?”_

“Christine? Are you going to answer me?”

“What, Raoul? I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Same old Christine,” Raoul smiled, “Your head in the clouds.”

“I think _today_ my head has been here on Earth the entire time,” she responded, holding her back her annoyance.

“Are you ok? Did something happen?”

She looked at him and internally debated whether or not she should even try to explain.

“ _Well Raoul, should I tell you the hell my morning was...tell you how I met a mysterious boy the night before, and how that boy has done nothing all day, but caused me such anxiety and grief! I mean, I just now got a dirty look from an upper-class girl I have never even met!”_

“ _I’m sure it would sound like I was just whining. No, I won’t tell him. He doesn’t need to know. **I** must confront Erik, just like Meg said!”_

“Christine?”

“I’m sorry, Raoul. I just have a lot on my mind...my new AP classes and all. Did you know that there is all ready an exam on MONDAY!”

“Monday? Like...this upcoming Monday?”

“Yes!”

“That’s insane!”

“ _That’s_ AP European History,” Christine responded with a hint of sarcasm.

“I heard that teacher is horrible!”

“ _You_ have no idea...”

The bell for fifth period rang.

“Christine, you didn’t eat! Here! Take my half of sandwich!”

With everything that happened she did not have much of an appetite, but she gratefully accepted his offer.

“Where are you off to next?”

“AP French Language and Culture.”

“Well, at least we still have lunch together!”

Christine weakly smiled at him.

“ _T_ _hankfully,_ _at least_ _ **some**_ _thing_ _s_ _remain the same...”_

* * *

“It’s going to be all right, Erik,” Nadir reassured him.

“Will _it_?” he responded with doubt.

“Yes! Only _you_ can control your situation. _You_ want a good outcome? Then lead into it with good intentions!”

Erik let out a sigh.

“Get on with you then, oh future president! On to your AP US Government and Politics!”

“Sure, and here’s to _you_ , “Don Juan!” Nadir retorted.

Erik couldn’t help but let out a somber laugh from beneath the mask.

“Perhaps Don Juan, victorious? Or...Don Juan, triumphant?”

“Don Juan, triumphant, eh? I like the sound of that! But please, just one step at a time, ok?”

“I’ll...I’ll try, Nadir.”

* * *

Sixth Period: AP French Language and Culture

Monsieur Debienne taught all levels of French language at PHS, but AP French Language and Culture was his favorite class every year.

For the native Parisian, he enjoyed the college-level course where students are expected to speak entirely in French. The course emphasized the five domains of learning: communication, cultures, connections, comparisons, and communities. Within the five domains of learning are: listening, speaking, reading, writing, and developing cultural awareness appropriate to the level of coursework.*

Usually, AP French consisted of a relatively small group of students, ranging from 4 to 6 each year. The class was intimate, and Monsieur Debienne knew that when students made it to the AP level, they had a true passion for the subject matter.

This year, AP French consisted of only three students: Cari Giudicelli, Cécile Jammes, and Erik; and while the course prepared students to communicate proficiently through three modes: interpretive (receptive communication), presentational (one-way productive communication), and interpersonal (two-way interactive communication),* Erik preferred to work alone. Cari and Cécile, also preferred that _he_ work alone.

Since the girls all ready had an established friendship, they paired off immediately. Neither cared to bother with Erik; rather, the social pariah, and felt no guilt excluding him.

Erik did not care for Cari nor Cécile. He found that while they may hold _some_ capacity of intelligence within certain subject areas; overall, they were fake and superficial people.

Given the odd number of students, and Erik’s stubbornness to conform to interpersonal student one-on-one warm-up discussions, Monsieur Debienne begrudgingly allowed him to work alone.

Week one of class focused on personal and public identities by getting to know each other through both oral and written presentations.* Given written presentations were completed earlier in the week, Friday would be free discussion.

Erik had been the first student to enter the classroom. He did not have far to go since it was in the Fine Arts and Letters building.

He quietly greeted Monsieur Debienne, and took his seat in the back corner of the room.

As he settled in, he took out his music composition book. Given all that had happened since last night, his mind was racing in music. He had to write it. Remove the feelings from his mind while he had a few spare moments before class began.

Cari and Cécile walked in and took their seats in the front of the room completely ignoring Erik.

Just as the tardy bell rang, Monsieur Debienne addressed a student at the classroom door.

“Yes, Mademoiselle, may I help you?

Erik lost in concentration did not see her enter, nor did he see her present Monsieur Debienne _that_ familiar slip of paper.

“Cari? Isn’t that the girl that Ubie waved to in the courtyard?” Cécile whispered.

Cari was all ready glaring in the girl’s direction.

“Yes,” she hissed.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen her before today.”

“How does Ubie know her?”

“I don’t know that either! But _I_ will find out!”

“Mademoiselle Daae…” Monsieur Debienne began.

Erik’s eyes shot up from his music. He pressed the pencil point so hard down onto the paper that it snapped off and was left hanging from the pencil’s end.

“ _ **Mademoiselle** **Daae**?!”_

His throat dried and his hands started to shake as he began to internally collapse.

“ _I..._ _ **must**_ _be civil...I...I owe her_ _ **that**_ _much._ _N_ _o! I owe her_ _ **more**_ _..._ _so much more_ _!”_

“...en français?” Monsieur Debienne continued.  
 _...in french?_

“Oui…”  
 _Yes..._

“Merci. Je n'ai pas été informé que vous commenceriez avec nous aujourd'hui!”  
 _Thank you. I was not informed that you would be starting with us today!_

“Monsieur Belshaw a préféré travailler de manière indépendante; maintenant, il peut avoir un vrai partenaire.”  
 _Mr. Belshaw has preferred to work independently; now, he may have a true partner._

“ _A... **true partner** …”_

Erik felt like a black spider on a white floor with nowhere to hide.

If he were _any_ other student, this would be comical. Comical, _indeed_.

When his name was mentioned, he saw a sudden slouch in her posture.

Oh, how he regretted his earlier actions towards her!

“Prenez place à côté de M. Belshaw, s'il vous plaît, et nous allons commencer!”  
 _Take a seat next to Mr. Belshaw, please, and we shall begin!_

Christine tried her best not to show how nervous she was as approached him. She could hear Meg’s voice in her head…

“ _...make sure you stare directly into his eyes while thinking ‘don’t mess with me…’ you **are** strong…”_

Doing her best to give the appearance of “strength” she sat directly beside him.

“Bonjour, monsieur Belshaw. Je crois que nous nous sommes déjà rencontrés. Je m'appelle Christine Daae.”  
 _Hello, Mr. Belshaw. I believe we already met. My name is Christine Daae._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:
> 
> *Gaut, Mme. “French AP: AP French Language and Culture Course Syllabus,” French Classes. chccs.k12.nc. Year unknown. Retrieved via Google search.
> 
> Google Translate. English to French. Google, 2020.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos kind anon!
> 
> I also would like to thank findinghiddenisles who PMed me this: "I'm not a big fan of HS AUs but your piece is a hoot and has some wonderful scenes. I'm so glad you have 10 chapters in already! You're a great writer!" This means so much to me after being in writing hibernation for a very long time! :D
> 
> And thank you to all who continue to read and enjoy this little AU.
> 
> Full disclosure (again): Sadly for me, I do not and cannot speak French. Also sadly for me, I do not and cannot write or read French. All French dialogue is completely from Google Translate: English to French. Therefore, if there are mistakes, inaccuracies, or full out "it's all wrong" dialogue, I apologize in advance! I provided the English dialogue in italics below the French.
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and cannon. As always, with gratitude and love, my friend.

“Bonjour monsieur et mademoiselles! Nous avons un nouvel étudiant! Elle se présentera à la classe, et ensuite nous commencerons Free conversation vendredi!”  
 _Good afternoon monsieur and mademoiselles! We have a new student!_ _First, s_ _he will introduce herself to the class, and then we shall begin Free_ _Conversation_ _Friday!_ Monsieur Debienne announced with excitement.

He motioned for Christine to stand.

“Mademoiselle, veuillez vous présenter et nous dire un petit quelque chose sur vous.”  
 _Mademoiselle, please introduce and tell us a little something about yourself._

Christine was nervous. She always hated introductions; especially when it came to being in front of a class. What made it even more nerve-racking was having _him_ being so physically close to her.

“Je m'appelle Christine Daae. Ma mère était française. J'ai vécu en France de deux à huit ans. Mon père jouait du violon dans quelques orchestres en Europe quand j'étais plus jeune.”  
 _My name is Christine Daae. I lived in France from two to eight years old. My mother was French, and my father played violin in a few orchestras in Europe when I was younger._

Unsure of what else to say, Christine stood silent.

“Jouez-vous aussi?”  
 _Do you play?_ Monsieur Debienne asked enthusiastically.

“Je joue du violon, d'autres instruments à cordes et du piano, mais pas très bien, j'en ai peur.”  
 _I play the violin, some other string instruments and the piano, but not very well, I'm afraid._

Erik did his best to contain his emotions as he dissected the information she shared.

“ _She lived in France?!...She can play the piano?!...Her father played for more than one orchestra?”_

_My mother **was** French…_

“ _ **Was** French... **bo** **th** her father and mother are...deceased?...I...I made such terrible assumptions about her life!”_

He felt deeply remorseful.

“Ah! Peut-être qu’un jour vous jouerez pour nous, ici en classe ... l’un des grands musiciens français, bien sûr!” Monsieur Debienne responded jokingly.  
 _Ah! Perhaps one day you will play for us, here in class...one of_ _France’s great_ _musicians, of course!_

“Bien sûr!”  
 _Of course!_ Christine responded weakly smiling.

“Une question complémentaire, Mademoiselle Daae, vous avez dit que votre père jouait avec quelques orchestres?”  
 _One follow-up question, Miss Daae, you said your father played with a few orchestras?_ Monsieur Debienne inquired.

“Oui. Il était membre de l'Orchestre Philharmonique de Vienne, de l'Orchestre National de France, du Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra d'Amsterdam et du London Symphony Orchestra. Aux États-Unis, le New York Philharmonic et le Boston Philharmonic Orchestras.”  
 _Yes. He was a member of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, the National Orchestra of France, the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, and the London Symphony Orchestra. In the United States, the New York Philharmonic and the Boston Philharmonic Orchestras._

Erik’s mind reeled over what she said.

“ _Her father...truly was an accomplished musician...there is no doubt that she inherited his talent!”_

“Comme c'est extraordinaire! Merci, Mademoiselle Daae! Vous pouvez être assis. Classe, il est maintenant temps pour vous de vous présenter et de poser des questions à Mademoiselle Daae ‘apprendre à vous connaître’!”  
 _How extraordinary! Thank you, Mademoiselle Daae! You may be seated. Class, now it is time for you to introduce yourselves and ask Mademoiselle_ _Daae ‘getting to know you questions’!_

Cari tossed her long thick dark auburn hair over her shoulder as stood up with gusto.

“Bonjour, Christine. Je m'appelle Carlotta Giudicelli. Mes amis m'appellent “Cari.” Je suis une personne âgée. J'aime chanter et jouer. Je suis le président du Theatre Club.”  
 _Good afternoon,_ _Christine_ _. My name is Carlotta_ _Giudicelli_ _. My friends call me "Cari." I am a senior. I enjoy singing_ _and acting._ _I_ _am the President of Theater Club._

Christine tensed. She recognized Cari as the girl who was hugging Ubie that gave her a dirty look in the courtyard.

“Je suis désolé, Christine, mais peut-être que je l'ai manqué dans votre introduction à la classe, mais dans quelle année avez-vous dit que vous étiez?”  
 _I'm sorry, Christine, but maybe I missed it in your class introduction, but what grade did you say you were in?_

Christine’s neck and shoulders further stiffened.

“Le nouveau.”  
 _Freshman,_ she quietly responded.

Cari’s fake smile twisted into a smug expression.

“Un étudiant de première année dans une classe AP! Non pas que ce soit inouï, mais c'est assez rare ... il faut être si intelligent pour être ici! Comment avez-vous réussi à y parvenir?”  
 _A freshman in an AP class! Not that it is unheard of, but it is quite rare...you_ _must_ _be_ _so_ _i_ _ntelligen_ _t_ _to be here!_ _How did you manage to pull it off?_ she condescended.

Erik grew furious over Cari’s question, and the tone of her comment. He saw Christine was all ready anxious, and Cari was deliberately making it worse _and_ taking pleasure from it! From where he sat, Christine could not see how he glared at Cari causing her to become uncomfortable. His intimidating eyes grew darker as the amber tones glowed like flames.

Throwing his voice in her ear he angrily hissed, “Sit down now, Carlotta! You are making a complete mockery of yourself!”

She heard the whisper so clearly. Her olive skin blanched and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her stage-confident presence facade cracked as she found herself at a loss for words.

“Do as I say, Carlotta, or you will be very sorry. Be a good girl and SIT DOWN!”

Quickly, she sat down.

Completely oblivious to Cari’s behavior, Cécile happily stood up.

“Bonjour Christine, je m'appelle Cécile Jammes. Je suis une personne âgée. J'aime danser et je suis membre des clubs de danse et de théâtre.”  
 _Hello Christine, my name is Cécile Jammes. I am a senior. I enjoy dancing, and I am a member of the Dance and Theater Clubs._

“Avez-vous d'autres passe-temps ou intérêts?”  
 _Do you have any other hobbies or interests?_

Christine looked nervously at the tiny girl. She wasn’t sure how to answer given she still felt uncomfortable after Cari’s questions.

“Je ... j'aime lire et chanter.”  
 _I...I like to read and sing._

“Chanter! Cari adore chanter! Peut-être devriez-vous rejoindre le Theatre Club! Tu ne penses pas, Cari?”  
 _Sing! Cari loves to sing! Perhaps you should join the Theater Club! Don't you think so, Cari?_

Still disturbed by the aggressive hissing whisper, Cari attempted a fake smile and nodded her head.

“Oh! Oui, bien sûr qu'elle devrait! Nous aimons toujours avoir de nouveaux membres!”  
 _Oh! Yes, of course! We always love to have new members!_

Cécile nodded in agreement with Cari as she took her seat.

An awkward silence fell over the room, causing Monsieur Debienne to speak up.

“Monsieur Belshaw, ne soyez pas impoli avec notre nouvel étudiant! Présentez-vous s'il-vous-plaît!”  
 _Mr. Belshaw, please do not be rude to our newest student! Please, introduce yourself!_

Erik dreaded this moment. Remembering when he stood up in orchestra in front of her, he chose to remain seated.

“ _She was afraid of me...my height...I frightened her...I saw fear in her eyes...”_

He quietly spoke in her direction. She turned to look at him as he spoke. When his eyes met her’s she saw that he was nervous.

_The weird quiet kid...socially awkward..._

“Je m'appelle Erik Belshaw. Je suis une personne âgée. Mes intérêts composent et jouent de la musique.”  
 _My name is Erik Belshaw. I am a senior. My interests are composing and playing music._

After he finished speaking he quickly averted her eyes.

Monsieur Debienne tried to coax Erik to speak more.

“Monsieur Belshaw, Souhaitez-vous demander quelque chose Mademoiselle Daae?”  
 _Is there anything you wish to ask Mademoiselle Daae?_

“Non, je ne.”  
 _No, I do not._

Cari and Cécile snickered to each other. To Christine their snicker demonstrated their cruelness towards him.

_The_ _..._ _weird_ _quiet..._ _socially_ _awkward_ _kid..._

Christine began to feel sorry for Erik.

Monsieur Debienne ignored Cari and Cécile and continued on.

“Très bien. Puis le moment que vous attendiez tous ... Conversation gratuite vendredi! N'oubliez pas que je viendrai et rejoindrai au hasard vos conversations tout au long du cours.”  
 _Very well. Then the moment you've all been waiting for...Free Conversation Friday! Remember, I will be coming around and randomly joining your conversations throughout the class time!_

* * *

Cari and Cécile turned their backs to Erik and Christine.

“Comment osez-vous me mettre sur la sellette comme ça?”  
 _How dare you put me on the spot like that?_ Cari hissed.

“Quoi? Tu veux dire?”  
 _What? Do you mean?_

“’ ‘Peut-être qu'elle devrait rejoindre un club de théâtre’?! Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas!? Elle est tellement...souriante et manque de talent...”  
‘ _Maybe she should join theater club’?! What’s wrong with you!? She’s so...mousy and_ _lacking talent_ _..._

“Elle a dit qu'elle pouvait chanter.”  
 _She said she could sing,_ Cécile defended.

“Ce monstre...avez-vous vu la façon dont il me regardait?! J'ai l'impression d'avoir besoin d'une douche!”  
 _That **freak**...did you see the way he was looking at me?! I feel like I need a shower!_

“Avez-vous...entendu quelque chose quand je faisais mon introduction...quelque chose du tout?”  
 _Did you...hear anything when I was doing my introduction...anything at all?_

“Non, Cari...pourquoi?”  
 _No, Cari...why?_

“J'ai entendu...je veux dire...je pensais avoir entendu...”  
 _I heard...I mean...I thought I heard…_

“Était-ce le fantôme? Cari! Qu'est ce que ça dit?!”  
 _Was it the ghost, Cari?! What did it say?!_ Cécile asked wide-eyed.

“Le fantôme? Etes-vous sûr...que vous n’avez rien entendu? Rien du tout?”  
 _The...Ghost?...Are you sure...you didn’t hear anything? Anything at all?_

“Cari! Je n’ai rien entendu...mais si vous le faisiez...”  
 _Cari! I didn’t hear anything...but if you did…_

“Il n’y a pas de fantôme! C'est juste ridicule!”  
 _There’s no ghost! That’s just ridiculous!_ Cari whispered while wildly looking around the room.

“Mais...Cari...”  
 _But...Cari…_

“Plus de discours sur un fantôme stupide! Parlons d'autre chose!”  
 _No more talk of some...stupid ghost! Let’s talk about something else!_ Cari rolled her eyes.

“Eh bien...je reçois des mèches dans mes cheveux ce week-end.”  
 _Well...I’m getting highlights in my hair this weekend._ Cécile began.

“Oooo! Quelle couleur?”  
 _Oooo! What color?_

* * *

“Je ... je voudrais te parler …”  
 _I...I would like to talk to you…_

Still too nervous and unsure to face him, Christine continued to face forward. When she heard his soft, deep voice she closed her eyes and listened; yet, she _still_ could not face him.

When she did not acknowledge him, he began to panic.

“Avez-vous compris ce que je viens de dire?”  
 _Did you not hear me?_

When she did not respond, he grew frustrated. Opening his composition book he lowered his voice, and spoke to himself in French.

“Pourquoi est-ce si difficile? Je veux juste dire... je veux dire…”  
 _Why is this so hard? I just want to say...I mean…_

“Je...Je...merde! Je ne sais pas…”  
 _I...I...damn it! I don’t know…_

“Je ne sais pas quoi, Erik?”  
 _Don’t know what, Erik?_

Finally, she turned to face him. He anxiously looked at her. When their eyes locked both of their faces flushed.

“ _Be strong!_ _ **Remain**_ _strong,_ _Christine!”_ she chastised herself.

“Pourriez-vous au moins me dire pourquoi vous me détestez autant?”  
 _Could you at least tell me why you hate me so much?_

Beneath the mask, Erik’s face fell.

“Hate _you_?” breaking from French dialogue, he began to nervously laugh.

“ _Damn it!”_

He never once thought that his actions could be construed as hatred towards her!

He could not escape the sadness in her searching eyes. From the way her bottom lip quivered he realized that she interpreted his nervous laughter as him laughing at _her_. His blood ran cold as he watched her face grow pink with frustration and her eyes becoming glassy.

“Pourquoi pensez-vous que je vous déteste?”  
 _Why would_ _you think I hate you?_ he quickly whispered.

“Même maintenant, vous vous moquez de moi! Pensez-vous que je ne suis qu'une petite fille idiote?”  
 _Even now, you're laughing at me! Do you think that I am just some idiot little girl?_

Her voice cracked as she tried to find the strength to further confront him.

“Depuis que je t'ai rencontré...hier soir...tu...”  
 _Ever since I met you...just last night...you..._

“Tu aimes l'opéra?”  
 _D_ _o you like opera?_ he quietly interrupted.

“Quoi...qu'est-ce que tu racontes?”  
 _What..._ _w_ _hat are you talking about?_

“Hier soir, je...je vous ai demandé si vous aimiez l'opéra.”  
 _Last night, I...I_ _asked_ _you if you liked opera._

“Je...je suis tellement confus. Aujourd'hui...hier soir, vous...vous avez agi comme si vous ne supportiez pas ma vue! S'il vous plaît...dites-moi ce que j'ai fait pour que vous me détestiez autant?”  
 _I...I'm so confused._ _To_ _day...last night, you...you_ _have_ _act_ _ed_ _as though you_ _can’t stand the sight of me!_ _Please...tell me_ _what have I done to make you hate me so much?_

Her eyes clouded over. He knew he had to answer her quickly or else he would lose her.

“ _No! No, Christine!_ _P_ _lease...don’t give up on me!_ _N_ _ot now..._ _”_

“Christine, je...je ne pourrais jamais te haïr. Jamais!”  
 _Christine, I...I could never hate_ _ **you**_ _._ _ **N**_ _ **ever**_ _!_

The emotion behind his voice caused her to feel the same strange warmth rising in her abdomen that she had felt the night before. She brought her hands to her eyes and quickly wiped away her developing tears.

“Alors pourquoi?”  
 _Then why?_ she breathed.

Again, her eyes locked eyes with his. He felt overwhelmed. He balled his hands into fists on his lap and averted her questioning gaze.

“Parce que ... je suis un lâche.”  
 _Because...I am a coward._

She would not look away from him.

“Je...je ne comprends pas...”  
 _I...I don’t understand…_

Glancing towards her, he saw the confusion in her eyes.

_...only **you** can control your situation. **You** want a good outcome? Then lead into it with good intentions!_

“ _You idiot!_ _This is_ _all_ _my_ _fault!..._ _ **MY**_ _fault!_ _”_

His fists were tense in his lap. Reflexively, he dug his nails into the flesh of his palms, unconsciously tearing open and agitating the tender wound from earlier in the day.

Bringing his hands to the top of the desk, grabbed his pencil and started to fidget. Blood dripped from his hand onto the pages of his composition book.

“Erik, vous vous êtes blessé!” she whispered concerned.  
 _Erik, y_ _ou’ve hurt yourself!_

Nervously, he looked at her.

“It’s...ok...it’s nothing,” he whispered, trying desperately to hide hishands.

“ _Damn it!”_

“Erik…”

He could _feel_ her eyes on him. He timidly looked at her, fearful that she would harshly judge him, but he was surprised when he saw her eyes filled with such concern.

“Will you let me help you after class?”

He stared at her with astonishment.

“ _How? After I hurt her...how could she...? Why would she want to help **me**...?”_

A feeling so foreign began to wash over him. She made him feel _comfort_.

“ _She truly is a_ _n angel!_ _Only an angel_ _would seek to_ _comfort_ _such_ _a..._ _loathsome_ _monster_ _!”_

She observed his reaction. When he closed his eyes she could see that he was strongly contemplating what she could only assume were her words. When he opened his eyes he looked at her with such melancholic intensity. His expression took her off guard. She truly could not deny to herself _this time_ that the amber hue in his eyes glowed with the same warmth and somber happiness as the night before; however, the rapid changes in his mood still caused her such confusion.

“ _I merely asked him a simple question...yet, he_ _is_ _act_ _ing_ _as though my words_ _are_ _..._ _so_ _foreign_ _to him_ _!_ _Has no one ever offered to...to help him? That...that can’t be!_ _Can it?!._ _.._ _Meg said he had a terrible home life...”_

“ _..._ _ **a**_ _ **terrible home life**_ _…”_

“My...God…” she whispered as the realization knifed her through the heart.

Erik overheard her whisper, and saw the distressed look in her eyes.

“Christine? Is something...I mean, have I...have I offended you?”

She warmly smiled at him.

Her smile caused his heart burst with joy.

“Will you let me help you?” she repeated.

He slowly nodded his head as his mind rejoiced.

“ _She...she’s_ _ **not**_ _afraid of me_ _..._ _my_ _beautiful angel_ _._ _”_

“Mes amis! Quelles merveilleuses conversations avons-nous?”  
 _My friends! What wonderful conversations are we having?_

Pulling up a seat next to them, Monsieur Debienne joined their conversation.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Debienne, Monsieur Belshaw et moi parlions juste de nos opéras préférés.”  
 _Hello, Monsieur Debienne, Monsieur Belshaw and I were just talking about our favorite operas,_ Christine continued to smile.

“Je crois que l'opéra préféré Monsieur Belshaw est Faust. Est-ce exact?”  
 _I believe Monsieur Belshaw’s favorite opera is Faust. Is that correct?_

His fascination of her blossomed into complete awe.He could not stop himself from smiling under his mask.

“Oui, Mademoiselle Daae était sur le point de me raconter son opéra préféré.”  
 _Yes, Mademoiselle Daae was just about to tell me her favorite opera._

“Mon opéra préféré est La Flûte enchantée de Mozart.”  
 _My favorite opera is Mozart's The Magic Flute._

“De tels parallèles dans vos intérêts! Parler de ces différences fait d'excellentes conversations!” Monsieur Debienne enthusiastically reacted.  
 _Such parallels in your interests! Talking about these differences make for excellent conversations!_

Monsieur Debienne happily added.

“Mademoiselle Daae, pourriez-vous s'il vous plaît...dites-moi…”  
 _Mademoiselle Daae, could you please...tell me…_ Erik began.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur Belshaw, mais je crois que nous étions sur le point de discuter pourquoi Faust est votre opéra préféré.”  
 _Excuse me Monsieur Belshaw, but I believe we were about to discuss why Faust is **your** favorite opera, _she politely interrupted him.

His eyes lit up. She was earnestly seeking _his_ thoughts on Faust! She wanted to listen to _him_!

“Ce n’est pas tant le Faust de Gounod; plutôt, "Faust, Part One" de Goethe, sur lequel l'opéra est basé, qui m'intrigue.”  
 _It is not so much Gounod’s “Faust;” rather, Goethe’s “Faust, Part One,” for which the opera is based that intrigues me._

“Faust est déçu par les connaissances et les résultats obtenus par les moyens naturels de la science. À maintes reprises, il tente et échoue à acquérir de telles connaissances en utilisant la magie. Déprimé par son échec, il envisage le suicide, mais est retenu par le bruit des célébrations de Pâques qui commencent.” *  
 _Faust is disappointed by the knowledge and results obtainable by science's natural means. Over and over again he attempts and fails to gain such knowledge by using magic. Dejected by his failure, he contemplates suicide, but is held back by the sounds of the beginning Easter celebrations.*_

“Méphistophélès, un agent de Lucifer, propose à Faust un contrat: il fera les offres de Faust sur terre, et Faust fera de même pour lui en Enfer. Faust accepte et signe dans son sang.”  
 _Mephistopheles, an agent of Lucifer, offers Faust a contract: he will do Faust's bidding on earth, and Faust will do the same for him in Hell. Faust agrees and signs in his blood._

“Veuillez excuser mon interruption, mais je pense que vous avez omis deux points très importants.”  
 _P_ _lease excuse my interruption,_ _but_ _I feel you omitted_ _two very i_ _mportant_ _points_ _._

Erik raised his eyebrows, finding himself curious as to what she meant.

“Vous m'avez intriguée, Mademoiselle Daae, continuez s'il vous plaît.”  
 _You have me i_ _ntrigued,_ _Mademoiselle Daae_ _,_ _p_ _lease continue._

Realizing that she had his complete attention, she felt her cheeks blush. The way he said her name, she couldn’t understand why, but it made her feel elated.

“L'intrigue proprement dite commence par un prologue au paradis. Le Seigneur parie à Méphistophélès qu'il ne peut ni tenter ni induire en erreur son chercheur préféré, le Dr Faust *. Je pense que cela met vraiment l'accent sur tout le ton de l'intrigue. Deuxièmement, Faust ajoute une clause secondaire importante à son accord avec Méphistophélès. Méphistophélès doit obtenir une grande forme de satisfaction pour Faust, qui répondrait à ses plus grands désirs.” *  
 _The_ _actual plot begins with a prologue in_ _Heaven. T_ _he Lord bets_ _Mephistopheles_ _that_ _he_ _cannot_ _tempt or_ _lead astray the_ _His_ _favorite striving scholar,_[ _Dr. Faust_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faust) _.*_ _I think that this really emphasizes the entire tone of the plot._ _Secondly,_ _Faust adds an important side clause_ _to his deal with Mephistopheles_ _. Mephistopheles_ _must_ _obtain some great form of satisfaction for_ _Faust,_ _which would fulfill his greatest_ _desires_ _._ *

Without knowing it, she completely captivated him.

“Dès le début, cela montre que Méphistophélès n'est tout simplement pas allé chercher le Dr Faust par ennui; plutôt, le Seigneur a présenté à Méphistophélès un défi.”  
 _Right from the beginning it shows that Mephistopheles simply did not go out seeking Dr. Faust out of his own boredom; rather, the Lord presented to Mephistopheles a challenge._

"Mais Faust se rachète par la conclusion du conte ..."  
 _But Faust redeems himself by the tale’s conclusion..._

“C'est vrai, mais un tel prologue fournit la preuve que le Seigneur savait que Méphistophélès échouerait le défi dès le début. Je pense que cela explique et justifie la conclusion de l’histoire.”  
 _True, but such a prologue provides proof that the Lord knew Mephistopheles would fail the challenge from the very beginning. I believe that explains and justifies the tale’s conclusion._

“Et leur contrat, alors?”  
 _What of their contract, then?_ Erik had to know more.

Monsieur Debienne was delighted with their conversation. To see Erik now actively engaged pleased him. He looked up at the clock, and at the sight of the time he abruptly stood up making a class announcement.

“Cela m'attriste vraiment d'avoir à dire cela, mais s'il vous plaît, commencez à mettre fin à vos conversations! Le temps semble s'être éloigné de nous!”  
 _I_ _t_ _truly_ _saddens me_ _to_ _have to_ _say this, but_ _please_ _begin to bring your conversations to an en_ _d!_ _Time_ _seems to have_ _gotten away from_ _us_ _!_

The bell immediately rang after Monsieur Debienne spoke.

Disappointment washed over Erik. He wanted to never leave her side. From the very beginning he knew there was something different about her...something _special_.

Retreating into his mind, he became lost in his melancholy while he took his leave of the room. As he began to walk out, he felt a touch above his elbow. Hating to be touched, his automatic response was to quickly whip around on his unknown “assailant” and physically defend himself.

Only this time his eyes met her welcoming warm blue ones.

She carefully reached for his left wrist and softly held it with his palm facing up, exposing the freshly dried blood.

Her touch sent goose-bumps up his arm and down the back of his neck as his face flushed.

“Poor Erik, have you forgotten me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:
> 
> Google Translate. English to French. Google, 2020.
> 
> * von Goethe, Johann Wolfgang. "Faust." Wikipedia. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From ofbeautsandbeasts: "...your fic is seriously the light of this year for me! During these dark times, I can look forward to immersing myself in that high school world where life is simpler and more hopeful and where my favorite characters live again. It makes me so happy that you've expanded my drawing into a whole universe."  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE INSPRIATION...your words and support mean so much to me!
> 
> New and beautiful readers: Thank you! I am truly grateful that you are a part of this little High School AU.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A FLASHBACK CONTAINING DRUG USE, EMOTIONAL, VERBAL, AND PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE.  
> I have placed in bold where it will start and where it ends.
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With appreciation and love, my friend.

**TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A FLASHBACK CONTAINING DRUG USE, EMOTIONAL, VERBAL, AND PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE.**

* * *

_Only take someone's hand in a certain way, even look into their eyes in a certain way, and the world is changed forever.  
_ ~Iris Murdoch

As sixth period came to an end, Erik retreated into his mind. He became lost in his melancholy having to accept that he would have to wait until Monday morning to see Christine again.

When he felt a touch on his arm he grew tense and angry. He never allowed anyone to touch him, and he vehemently hated to be touched by _anyone_.

He quickly whipped around, ready to strike whoever dared touch him. Only this time, instead of coming face-to-face with someone meaning to intentionally do him harm, he was face-to-face with _her_. His reflexes froze as her innocent blue eyes took hold of him rendering him still and defenseless.

What if he _had_ reacted as he intended? Like so many times before, he could have blacked out with rage. He could have struck her! He could have hurt her! He had all ready hurt her enough through his actions; that the thought of him _ever_ harming her caused him intense self-loathing and guilt. He would sooner take his own life, than harm her.

She carefully reached for his left wrist and softly held the back of his hand in her’s. Unconsciously, his fist relaxed, his long fingers uncurling, exposing the freshly dried blood over the open wound.

Her touch sent goose-bumps up his arm and down the back of his neck as his face flushed.

“Poor Erik, have you forgotten me?”

Her question left him speechless.

“ _Forg_ _otten_ _you? How could I ever forget you,_ _my angel!_ _For as long as I live, until my last breath, I will_ _ **never**_ _forget you!”_

He slowly exhaled as his body’s fight or flight instincts eased. A new feeling overtook him as he stared at his hand in her’s.

With his face being covered by the surgical mask it was hard for Christine to read any facial expressions he made. In the absence of his words, only his eyes revealed his thoughts. She was taken aback when his eyes shifted to her’s, and held her within their warm shades of gold and amber.

How could she know the way he felt?

Touch, a simple gesture, a thing that most people don’t even give a second thought; perhaps, some even take for granted.

Most of Erik’s life was mired in physical abuse—abuse driven by impulsive cruelness and malicious intentions. He only experienced violence through touch.

Now that he was no longer a small child, he had the ability to physically defend himself.

But her touch! How strangely wonderful it felt!

She wanted to...she was _willing_ to touch him! Her willingness showed him that she was not like the others. She did not see him as a reviled creature to punish with beatings and send away. No, she did not judge him—her eyes were full of such sincerity and kindness. Her actions _proved_ to him that she cared.

There was something in the way she held his hand. Her touch, her unspoken language, made him feel _h_ _uman_.

“We need to take care of you,” she whispered.

“Come with me,” he responded, carefully removing his hand from her’s.

**TRIGGER WARNING**

* * *

“God damn it! Get me a fucking lighter that works!” Chloé yelled.

“It’s your fucking house, you drunk bitch!” a female’s voice shouted back throwing her a lighter.

Chloé put her cigarette down on a nearby ashtray, while trying to level a large spoon full of liquid and a cotton ball in one shaky hand, as she lit the lighter beneath it with her other.

“Do you have the needle?”

“Of course I do! What the hell?”

“Chloé, you’re such a desperate junkie!” a boy laughed laying on a dirty old beanbag chair.

“Fuck off!” Chloé snapped.

“Damn it! Where’s the belt?”

The door to the little room burst open, followed by the running in of a cheerful four year old boy.

“JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL IS _THAT?!”_ a voice screeched.

“Ignore it! Damn it, _ERIK_!” Chloé shouted, trying to keep her hands steady.

“Its’...face! What’s wrong with its’ face?!”

Erik paid no attention to what was around him, he only sought out his mother.

“MAMA! MAMA! What are you doing? Mama, hugs!”

Running up to hug Chloé, he accidentally knocked the spoon from her hand causing it and the heroin to fall onto the dirty floor.

“You...YOU LITTLE _FUCK_! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT SHIT COSTS?! HOW MUCH I NEEDED IT?!”

Chloé tightly gripped his arms while she shook him.

“Aw, damn, Chloé, that was the last of it, too!” the girl reclined back closing her eyes.

“MAMA! I’M SORRY! I...” Erik began to cry.

“You’re _gonna_ be sorry you fucking _freak_!”

Chloé’s anger over the loss of her fix blinded her. Reaching into the nearby ashtray she took out her smoldering cigarette and stabbed it into Erik’s arm.

“OWWW! MAMA I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!” he fell to the floor crying holding his freshly burnt arm.

“I wish you were never born you fucking little _monster_! YOU RUINED _MY_ LIFE!”

Erik stared at his mother with sad confusion as tears fell down his face.

“Get out.” Chloé hissed staring at him with intense hatred.

“Mama…” he cried reaching out for her.

Slapping his hand away she screamed, “I CAN’T STAND THE SIGHT OF YOU! GET OUT, _NOW_!”

* * *

**STORY RESUMES HERE**

Knowing the theater very well, Erik had taken Christine to the set design shop. He knew there would be a fully stocked First Aid kit there. The shop area was vacant leaving just the two of them in the large room.

“Erik?”

As his eyes slowly opened, she could see that whatever he was thinking about had caused him sorrow.

The abuse Erik endured had created a deep psychological distance in establishing trust.*

Yet, he trusted _her_. With her there was no anger, there was no violence, there were no punishments. Just her, her concern, and her comfort.

She held out her hand.

Ever so slowly, he placed his hand in her’s.

Again, her touch! This was the third time she willingly _touched_ him!

Unbeknownst to her, just her touch served as a profound agent in the process of healing;* not just for his present physical wound, but for his hidden emotional ones. Here, she was reaching out to help him by unknowingly reassuring him that he was allowed to be treated with kindness.

“This might sting...”

She began to slowly cradle his hand as she dabbed it with gauze and peroxide.

Again, he showed no reaction, but it did indeed sting him.

“This seems all too familiar...it’s almost as if...we’ve been here before... _D_ _eja v_ _u_?” Christine smiled up at him.

She, couldn’t help but notice that his eyes had spoken for him. The melancholy that was ever-present in his eyes seemed to be replaced by a fond contentedness.

“ _S_ _he make_ _s_ _me smile…”_

_Christine..._

She nodded as she continued to attend him. While she placed the dry gauze over his wound she noticed his hand had small scars, but what caught her attention the most was a vertical scar starting at his wrist rising up his arm just where the cuff of his shirt rose up.

“ _This scar…_ _did he slit his wrist?”_

_He had a terrible home life...Nadir’s family adopted him…_

She could not stop thinking just how terrible things had to have been for him. She grew more sullen as she wondered if he had a matching one on his other wrist.

“Christine…”

Startling her from her thoughts she stammered, “I’m sorry...I…”

“Why is Mozart’s _The Magic Flute_ your favorite opera?”

“Should I answer you in French?” she joked.

“Why? We are not in French class now,” he responded, confused and not understanding her playful nature.

“I...was making a joke. Since we were having that discussion in French class,” she continued wrapping his hand.

“But...we could continue the discussion outside of French, can we not?” he sincerely asked.

She smiled an understanding smile.

“I guess I appreciate its humor.”

“It does differ greatly from _Faust_ ,” he nodded.

“When Prince Tamino is persuaded by the Queen of the Night to rescue her daughter, Pamina, from the high priest Sarastro’s captivity, Tamino goes with every intention of fighting and rescuing Pamina, but ironically ends up really liking the community Sarastro had. Then Papageno, who accompanies Tamino on the quest to rescue Pamina is rewarded even after he fails his trials to join the community and receives the hand of his ideal female companion, Papagena.”*

“ _...his ideal female companion…”_

The tardy bell for seventh period rang.

“I guess I’m late…” she sighed while she secured his bandage.

Erik felt guilty.

“ _Christine...if not for me, perhaps you might have had a_ _ **normal**_ _day! If not for me, you wouldn’t have cried! If not for me, you wouldn’t be reprimanded for being late for class..._ _if not for me...”_

Her eyes locked with his, causing him to cease his self-depreciation.

“Erik...please don’t hurt yourself! Your poor hands! You need your hands to play your music…” she said with stern caring while continuing to hold his hand.

Emotion overtook him. He turned his palm upwards holding her hand up, their hands now placed palm to palm. His fingers continued to extend over her’s. In a very unconscious way they were innocently comparing their hands. She was taken aback at how his hand and fingers were long and graceful, just as he adored how her hand and fingers were slender and elegant.

It was just a light touch that existed for a mere second. An unexpected electric shock surged through them,* though neither knew how the other felt, nor could they quite explain to themselves just what _it_ was.

Erik’s mind was torn between agony and ecstasy. He felt such a curious sort of magnetic pull that drew him towards her all the more with such a ferocious intensity.*

“ _Her hand fits in mine like it’s just made for me...”*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:
> 
> Barrie, Zara. “Sexual Chemistry: Why Our Bodies Understand Love Before Our Brains Do.” Elite Daily, 2015. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.  
> Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus. “The Magic Flute.” Wikipedia. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.  
> Murdoch, Iris. “Holding Hands Sayings and Quotes.” Wise Old Sayings. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.  
> Tower, Roni Beth. “Touching Can Communicate Love In Ways That Go Beyond Words.” Psychology Today Online 52 Ways to Show I Love You: Touching, 2017. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.  
> Unknown. “Holding Hands Sayings and Quotes.” Wise Old Sayings. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020. Original quote: Your hand fits in mine like it's just made for me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you the_ninetailed_fox for your comment! No need to apologize, I appreciate you taking the time to read!
> 
> Thank you readers and welcome new readers! I appreciate all of you and am truly blessed that you are giving this little high school AU your time and attention!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With appreciation and love, my friend.

_Earlier…_

Sixth Period: Advanced Placement American Government and Politics

Dr. Papin was not one to stick to traditional teaching towards the AP examination. Having once worked as a senior advisor for a very progressive-thinking president decades ago, he believed passionately in the subject matter. He didn’t believe in teaching _only_ for examination preparation. He wanted to make the subject matter and the test preparation come _alive_ for his students.

The college-level class was taught as a nonpartisan introduction to key political concepts, ideas, institutions, policies, interactions, roles, and behaviors that characterize the constitutional system and political culture of the United States.*

Meg made it to class earlier than the other students. She had her lunch alone in the art studio while working on one of her pen and ink pieces. The piece was not assigned for class, she just liked to draw and couldn’t stand being around most of the students of PHS unless it was absolutely necessary.

She was the only junior in AP American Government and Politics. She knew the subject matter very well and enjoyed American History on a personal level. However, what made _this_ class truly enjoyable was that she got to sit in the back of the class and observe her three-year unrequited crush, Nadir Khadem.

She knew that Nadir was completely oblivious to her existence, and she was just fine with that. She would often bitterly laugh to herself when she thought of the possibility of her and Nadir _ever_ being a couple.

“ _A guy like him would never even give someone like me a second_ _glance_ _!_ _H_ _e’s too ‘normal’ to even consider getting to know a_ _little_ _freak like me._ _He’s popular, has tons of friends, and is_ _the damn student body President,_ _for fuck’s sake_ _!_ _Sure, I’ll admit, I admire all that shit about him! But for him to be seen with someone like me? Nah, I would ruin all his good standing and shit._ _I’ll just be content in fucking_ _I_ _magination_ _L_ _and!”_

She sat at her desk waiting for class to start. As she drew an extremely abstract pen and ink drawing of Nadir she smirked to herself.

“ _How would we even start a fucking conversation?!” >>_chuckles to herself<< _“It would have to be **me** to approach him...and that ain’t ever going to fucking happen! It would be like, ‘Oh hey, durp de durp, I’m just, um, hi...um, yeah, I’m a girl...and you’re this gorgeous awesome guy...and um, yeah...durp de durp de diddly dumb...never mind…’”_

She audibly snorted.

“ _Then he’d look at me and be all… ‘The fuck is wrong with_ _this chick_ _?’_ _Yup, that’s exactly how’d it go down.”_

The bell rang for fifth period to end.

“ _At least I’ll get my daily dose of eye-candy before the weekend!”_

Meg pretended to focus on her drawing, as she repeatedly glanced up at the door waiting for Nadir to enter.

Philippe de Chagny and the same group of JRTOC seniors were the first students to enter the room.

Meg rolled her eyes when she saw Philippe.

“ _Stupid fuck.”_

Ubie Piangi walked in and gave Philippe a fist-bump greeting, nodding to the other guys before taking his seat.

“ _I don’t know why_ _Ubie_ _associates himself with such dicks...ah!_ _The h_ _igh_ _s_ _chool pecking order, top-tier social status,_ _and the reason for high school_ _stereotypes,_ _I suppose._ _”_

Other students entered, but where was Nadir? It was almost time for the tardy bell, and Nadir was never late. She began to wonder if it was something to do with Erik? After all, if her new friend, Christine, was hurting and needed emotional support, perhaps Erik did, too?

Just as the tardy bell rang Nadir slipped into the room and took his seat.

Meg felt her face flush.

“ _He’s just another human being, Meg Giry! You’re such an idiot_ _over him!”_

She tried to read his face.

“ _Hmmm, he seems...ok...not flustered or frustrated...I wonder….”_

“Happy Friday, Future American Leaders!” Dr. Papin addressed the class, as he passed out papers to the students.

Meg had to silently snicker to herself.

“ _Me? A ‘_ _Future American Leader’? Not bloody fucking likely!”_

“As you are aware, the AP test will contain an argumentative essay. The argumentative essay must include a thesis or claim, two relevant and specific pieces of evidence, an explanation of how the evidence connects with the claim, and acknowledge a counter-argument by refutation, concession, or rebuttal.* Up on the board you will see the practice essay.”

“‘Develop an argument that explains which of the three models of representative democracy—participatory, pluralist, or elite—best achieves the founders’ intent for American democracy in terms of ensuring a stable government run by the people.’”

“In your essay, you must: one, articulate a defensible claim or thesis that responds to the prompt and establish a line of reasoning; two, use a second piece of evidence from another foundational document from the list or from your study of the electoral process; three, use reasoning to explain why your evidence supports your thesis.*”

“Next, you must support your thesis with at least TWO pieces of accurate and relevant information.

At least ONE piece of evidence must be from one of the following foundational documents; Brutus 1, Federalist No. 10, or the U.S. Constitution.*”

“Finally, you will respond to an opposing or alternative perspective using refutation, concession, or rebuttal.*”

“Remember, no books or outside resources.”

“You will find all of what I just said on the paper I just handed out. This paper is to be an outline of sorts to assist you with your points. Now, since, today is Friday, I know that you’re all looking forward to your weekends, you’re all dying to be with your friends, and I was young once, too, you’re all just wanting to be social with each other. Therefore, I’m going to pair you off, and you are going to work together to build on each other’s strengths in order to achieve the highest amount of points possible.”

“You will turn in your work at the end of class and receive your shared grade on Monday. Motivate each other to go beyond your best work for this assignment.”

Dr. Papin began to call out the names of the student pairs.

Meg threw up in her mouth a little.

“ _Fuck! I hate_ _pair-off_ _work! I_ _know I’_ _ll_ _be paired with Cadet Dickhead de Chagny...”_

“Mr. Khadem and Ms. Giry…”

“ _OHSHITHELLDAMNFUCK!!”_

Meg found herself glued to her desk unable to move.

When Nadir sat across from her she could not bring herself to even acknowledge him.

“ _WHY!? OH MY GOD…WHY?!_ _SHIT! Am I blushing? Am I...fuck! I’m blushing!!”_

She nervously covered up her picture of him with the assignment paper...abstract or not, what if _he_ saw it?!

“Well, I guess we should get started…”

Nadir took out his notebook and pen.

Meg quietly opened her notebook and started answering the question without even paying Nadir any attention. Her nerves were getting the better of her, but she was completely taken off guard and could not find a way to act “normal” around him. She figured giving him the cold shoulder was the best form of “normal” _she_ could pull off.

“ _Besides, the dude’s smart..._ _way smarter than me...especially when it comes to this shit! He wouldn’t be interested in my input!”_

“So...I guess we should start from the top?”

“ _What the actual fuck?! Did he...did he just TALK to me?!”_

“Um...heh, yeah, I guess…”

“ _Oh my God! You’re_ _so stupid_ _, Meg! ‘_ _Yeah, I guess’...duhduhduh!_ _”_

Meg kept her head down staring at the assignment.

_Develop an argument that explains which of the three models of representative_ _democracy—participatory, pluralist, or elite—best achieves the founders’ intent for_ _American democracy in terms of ensuring a stable government run by the people._

She began writing.

 _The founders originally wanted the most power for the people, as well as protection from the tyranny of a federal government. Therefore_...*

“Hey! You’ve all ready started!” Nadir said in a playful tone.

“Aren’t we supposed to work on this together?”

“Well, huh, yes. I, um, decided that, um…”

“May I see?”

“Sure…?”

Meg handed him her paper.

“Nice!”

Meg blushed.

“I’m sorry I interrupted you, what was your next thought after the ‘therefore?’”

“Um, well I was going to say that ‘the founders would have most wanted a participatory representative democracy,’* because their concept needs people to participate in order to make the government…*”

“...and the decisions for the government are made by the people who mobilized and advocate for themselves,* correct?”

“Actually, yes. If you think about it, Federalist 10 is a document that describes the use and existence of factions in society and how they affect government.*”

“The US Constitution exemplifies American government and participatory democracy because it gives citizens’ freedoms and a place in politics,* as well.”

“True, but my thoughts were geared more towards Federalist 10. Everybody _always_ talks about the Constitution, and I mean, yeah, it is the living embodiment of the United States, but come on! Let’s talk about _something_ different! Federalist 10 describes the use and the existence of factions in society and how they affect government. These groups include people participating in parties and other groups that supports a participatory model of democracy.”*

“You’re Meg Giry, right?”

“ _Holy shit! He knows_ _ **my**_ _name?!”_

“I’m Nadir…”

“Yes, I know…”

“‘ _Yes, I know?!’ DAMN IT, MEG!”_

“How is it we’ve never crossed paths before?”

“ _Because I avoid crossing paths with someone as_ _fucking hot as you…”_

“Oh, I don’t know…” was Meg’s actual response.

Nadir found himself intrigued by Meg.

Meg did her best not to stare at him. She imagined herself just sitting there, her eyes shaped as giant hearts with drool dripping out of her mouth pooling on her desk. The _last_ thing she wanted to do was sketch him out looking at him like a leering idiot.

“So…”

“...Meg, I hear what you’re saying about Federalist 10, but again, the Constitution includes a Bill of Rights which includes the rights and liberties of the people. This gives people an incentive to be a part of the governing process.*”

“Look, if a citizen can’t find a faction to identify with, it may deter them from participating in government….*”

“But we’re talking about a _participatory_ society, where everyone’s vote matters, and factions may not have the affect they would in other types of representative democracy. For example, in an elite representative democracy, only the “elite” help to make decisions in government. In this society, factions may be required to show interest and to get the attention of the elite. If a citizen does not relate to a large faction, their ideas may not be heard by an elite and in that case the individual citizen would not be represented, which is the opposite of what the founders wanted.*”

“Excuse me, Nadir, I never said we weren’t talking about a _participatory_ society, I was talking about the Federalist 10...and everything you said is exactly what I was thinking...and to your statement regarding the Constitution, the citizen’s rights will always be protected by the government, anyways.*”

“So, then you would agree that a participatory society most closely represents what the founders wanted for a system of representative democracy. It prevents tyranny from the federal government or the elite, as well as gives individual citizens a voice in government decisions?*” Nadir smiled.

Nadir was completely engaged in their discussion.

“I think that the Constitution should meet the needs of the current society.”

“What do you mean?”

“The federal government today has more power and attempts, albeit subtly, to support more of a pluralist or elite form of democracy.”

“However, they still have the goal of preventing tyranny and giving the people power so it continues to be a participatory society.*”

“Of course! I mean, I’m still saying that the people still have to vote in order to elect leaders. All participatory-based. I’d like to think that even founders that advocate for more federal power would still choose a participatory society as the best form of a representative democracy.*”

“Meg, that’s awesome!”

Meg felt herself blushing brightly. She hoped that it didn’t show through her white foundation. She began to write everything down that the two of them discussed on the outline provided by Dr. Papin.

“Your discussion was...pretty awesome, too!” she bashfully responded.

“Is history your favorite subject?”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Oh?” Nadir chuckled, “Could’ve fooled me! Then what is?”

Dr. Papin called out over the class, “Wrap it up folks, time to turn in your arguments.”

Nadir turned in their paper and returned to his seat by Meg as the bell for seventh period rang.

“You never answered my question, Meg.”

“What?”

“Your favorite subject?”

Nadir found himself walking with her.

“But before you answer _that_ question, would you mind if I walked with you to your next class?”

Meg tried her best to hide her shock behind the widest (she thought goofiest) grin she ever publicly allowed herself to make.

* * *

Holding their palms together, Erik and Christine stood in silent awe of each other. Erik’s fingers slowly started to curl over her fingertips, and she did not pull away...nor did she want to. Christine was first to look to Erik, and when his eyes met her’s they grew warmer still.

“Erik...” she whispered, “...please...will you promise me...”

“ _Well_! Mr. Belshaw! Bringing girls to the shop room? I never took _you_ to be _th_ _at_ type, but then again...”

Disrupting them from their reverie was the voice of the theater teacher, Mr. Joseph Buquet.

Quickly, Christine pulled her palm away from Erik’s. Erik watched as her face turned bright red with embarrassment as she fumbled for her books and purse from the work table.

“I...I have to get to Chemistry…” she said with a slight panic moving briskly toward the door.

Erik internally grew outraged at Buquet’s audacity for his sinister implication, and his ire only intensified when Buquet blocked the doorway, keeping Christine from leaving.

“And who do we have here? I’ve never seen _your_ face before.”

His stare made her feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, but I...um, I need to get to class…”

“Oh, yes, I’d say you’re quite late, aren’t you? _I_ still haven’t gotten your name.”

“Christine….”

“Christine... _hmm_?”

“Christine Daae…” she nervously answered.

“Daae...Danish? No? Norwegian, right? I can tell by your face it’s still a ‘no.’ That leaves Swedish?”

Christine nodded, not knowing exactly what else she should do.

“Those Scandinavians produce some of the world’s most beautiful women…” his eyes continued to look her over.

“You must be a freshman to not know who _I_ am! I can simply write you a pass to your next class. Why don’t you stick around, and we can talk about your interest in joining the theater club?”

“I...I never said...” she nervously responded.

Something about Mr. Buquet seemed...off to Christine. The way he leered at her, the way he punctuated certain words. Her instincts were telling her, teacher or not, to _never_ be alone with this man.

“Nonsense! Miss Daae, you can join me in _my_ office and...”

“Get out of her way, and let her get to her class, Buquet!” Erik growled.

Christine had never heard Erik’s voice sound so...deep...and filled with such anger. To her, it was almost...demonic. She turned slightly to find Erik standing directly behind her!

Erik put himself between Christine and Buquet. Towering over Buquet, Erik stared down at him with threatening eyes. She could see that Mr. Buquet was making every attempt to conceal his fear of him.

“ _He’s...defending me...helping me…”_

In an effort to regain some semblance of control, and to save face, Mr. Buquet raised his voice, “Watch your step around this theater, Belshaw. Remember, Poligny retired. _I’m_ in charge now!”

Erik did not waver. He continued to stare at the older man with contempt.

Within a matter of seconds, Buquet shifted and allowed Christine through the door.

“Never interrupt _me_ with another student, again, Belshaw. _You_ may have had the attention of Poligny, but your input and so-called genius doesn’t impress _me_!” Buquet turned away seemingly full of self-satisfaction.

* * *

Seventh period for Erik was AP Music Theory. Unsurprisingly, he was Mr. Reyer’s only student.

Mr. Reyer knew that Erik had all ready achieved the mastery of pitches, intervals, scales and keys, chords, meter, and rhythm.* Erik had all ready applied his mastery towards complex and creative tasks such as melodic and harmonic dictation.* Given his numerous famous compositional scores, Mr. Reyer decided to challenge him to compose and write an original opera and to showcase it at the end of the year. Otherwise, Mr. Reyer gave Erik the period to do what he wished with regards to composing his music and practicing the classics on the various school instruments. During seventh period Erik stayed within the confines of the orchestra’s rehearsal room, its inner office, the theater, and the practicing rooms.

* * *

Erik was in the practice room with the trap door leading to the underground. He could think of nothing but Christine, and how their most recent experience together made him all the more enamored of her. He marveled at how her palm fit so beautifully against his. How she stayed, never pulling away from him! He felt drawn to her more intensely than before.

_Erik, please...will you promise me…_

“ _I would promise you anything..._ _anything to please you, my angel! I would promise to give you anything you ever desired! I would promise to tear out my heart and give it to you! All you need do is ask it of me!”_

“ _With two days between us, will she forget...forget what she was about to ask me? Will...will she forget...forget about... **me**?”_

He felt such despair, but he felt himself shift into rational coldness, a long used defense mechanism for protecting his emotions.

“ _Look at you! Acting like a love-sick fool!_ _Pitiful!_ _S_ _he_ _ **won’t**_ _forget_ _you_ _in the span of_ _two days!_ ”

His heart continued to betray his rational mind as he relived the short precious time of being with her. He thought of her selflessness last night, and her stern but caring words just moments ago.

_...please don’t hurt yourself! Your poor hands! You need your hands to play your music…_

Then...Buquet... _Buquet_!

Erik’s emotions spiraled so quickly, from the pangs of innocent yearning, to uncontrollable rage bent on revenge.

“ _Buquet! You_ _sanctimonious..._ _lecherous_ _**bastard**_ _!_ _How dare you make such lewd insinuating comments to her!_ _Y_ _ou will_ _ **never**_ _treat Christine that way ever again!_ _”_

His lust for revenge burned within him, but he had time...yes, there was plenty of time for vengeance. His time to be with Christine; however, was fading.

Given that Erik was under no direct supervision for seventh period, he decided that he would venture underground to the Math and Sciences Building to find her and the observation point to her chemistry class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:
> 
> College Board. “AP Music Theory.” College Board, AP, 2020. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> College Board. “AP U.S. Government and Politics: Beginning Fall 2018 AP Test.” College Board, AP, 2018. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020. 
> 
> College Board. “Sample Responses from the AP U.S. Government and Politics Practice Exam.” College Board, AP, 2018. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Tom Richie. Net. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Unknown. “Christine Daae.” LitCharts. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you wonderful guests for your kudos! I very much appreciate them!
> 
> AND thank you all who are giving this little high school AU a chance!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With appreciation and love, my friend.

Erik could not stop thinking about her. Throughout his life he had never felt such happiness. Before her his joy came from his music. She had all ready began her enchantment of him. After all, did she not bring forth such emotions in him that he could only express them through song? Yes, she was his angel.

When Erik reached the observation point of Christine’s chemistry class his happiness rapidly mutated into jealousy. Raoul sat beside Christine at their lab table. His jealously caused him to grow more savage when he figured out they were lab partners.

The vent which Erik watched them was in the wall directly up and to the side of their table.

_T_ _hat...damned_ _**boy** _ _!_

“ _ **H**_ _ **e**_ _has her attention!_ _ **H**_ _ **e**_ _has the ability_ _to_ _bring her such happiness_ _!_ _How_ _ **he**_ _gets_ _to bask in_ _her_ _radian_ _ce!”_

“ _Such a...beautiful_ _ **boy…**_ _”_ Erik’s inner voice cynically and bitterly mocked both himself, and the unknowing Raoul.

“ _ **He**_ _is blessed with a_ _ **normal face**_ _. A_ _face that is whole. A face that would not bring her fear to look upon._ _ **His**_ _is a face_ _that she would not turn away from...in horror.”_

Feeling dejected, Erik leaned on the wall and watched them in silence. His mind occupied with festering jealousy and thoughts of revenge. Out of habit, he began to clench his hands into fists, and when he felt his fingers digging into the gauze bandage, instantly he stopped himself.

“ _Erik...please don’t hurt yourself...you need your hands to play your music…”_

He heard her stern caring voice replaying in his mind. The memory of what she said earlier caused him to relax his fists. The memory of her words soothed him.

“ _She attended_ _my injuries_ _..._ _ **both**_ _times she was selfless and compassionate! She...she understands how important music is to me..._ _”_

“ _But...she doesn’t know how important_ _ **she**_ _has become to me...”_

His anger subsided; however, his jealousy of Raoul still remained.

“ _That_ _ **boy**. That damned... **boy**!”_

Unknowingly, the _boy_ enraged a wretched monster.

There was still thirty-five minutes left to class...an eternity in Erik’s mind. He could not bear watching the two of them sitting side-by-side whispering to one another and sharing an occasional smile, but he could not bring himself to leave.

To see her smile was beauty in itself, but for her to smile at _him_ caused Erik’s jealousy to spiral into madness.

He could tolerate it no longer. A wicked smile formed under his mask.

* * *

“At least next week we’ll start labs,” Raoul whispered to Christine as Dr. Mifroid lectured the class.

“I’m tired of reviewing the same stuff...periodic table, formulas and nomenclature! Let’s really get to work!”

Christine smiled in response, but said nothing. Her mind was elsewhere.

* * *

_Erik…_

_W_ _ith a_ _n_ _up-sweep of his wrist he held her hand against his. The way his fingers began to curl over her’_ _s._ _How long and graceful his hand and fingers were!_

_A spark...something...caused her to feel_ _such unknown emotions towards_ _him._

_Then h_ _e was angry._

_She knew_ _he was not angry with her. She knew his tone was not directed at her;_ _yet_ _his voice, its’ d_ _eep_ _demonic sound_ _f_ _rightened her._

_But…_

_H_ _is voice_ _with her was always_ _gentle._ _His tone and his quiet reserve_ _intrigued her_ _._ _Yes, his voice captivated her in ways that she_ _could_ _not understand._

_After Erik_ _had_ _put himself between_ _her and_ _Buquet,_ _he_ _kept her protectively behind him._

_Christine observed that_ _Erik_ _had the build of a male dancer._ _H_ _is uniform_ _was_ _neither too baggy, nor too tight._ _To her, h_ _is_ _shoulders were broad, yet he appeared_ _to be_ _so thin._ _The hair at the back of his head,_ _she wondered how soft it would feel between her fingers…_

_His height_ _**could** _ _be so intimidating…_

_She_ _remembered Orchestra, when she slowly approached him,_ _and_ _how he stood up before her. His demeanor towards her was not_ _deliberately_ _intimidating…_

“ _No, he...he was staring down at his violin...he was not threatening at all! In fact, it was almost as if he were...shy…uncertain…”_

_Please...tell me what have I done to make you hate me so much?  
_ _Christine, I...I could **never** hate you.   
**Never**!   
_ _Then why?  
_ _Because...I am a coward...  
_

“ _...afraid? But...but that doesn’t make sense…”_

“ _...and what of his mask? Why does he wear it?”_

“ _There is still so much that I don’t understand...”_

* * *

“Christine! Didn’t you hear that?” Raoul stared at her wide-eyed.

Then she heard it. A high-pitched whistle. Before she could react the room’s lights began to flicker. At first, it just a slow dimming, almost a brown-out effect. Dr. Mifroid stopped lecturing as the students’ attention shifted to the lighting.

The lights returned to normal only for a moment before they began blinking so quickly that one of the older tubes popped causing that bulb to go dark.

The popping sound caused the class to jump from their seats.

“It’s the ghost!” Christine heard one of her classmates exclaim.

“There’s no such things as ghosts,” Dr. Mifroid calmly interjected.

As if that specific phrase were meant as a queue for the next action, the sound of heavy-booted stomps were heard above them.

Students got up from their lab tables and began to congregate closer to the door.

“There’s clearly a rational explanation for this,” Dr. Mifroid went on, “Everybody, go back to your seats…”

Then there was the sound of disembodied maniacal laughter. It encompassed the entirety of the classroom.

Christine’s face blanched as she listened to the sound.

“ _That...that laughter…second period…”_

Christine still had not moved from her seat until Raoul grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door with the other students.

“Is there a rational explanation for _that_ , Dr. Mifroid?” one of the students asked in a sarcastic tone.

The laughter carried on for a solid minute followed by complete silence.

“Return to your seats…” Dr. Mifroid now sounded less convinced of his earlier claim.

“No disrespect, Dr. Mifroid, but I’ve seen plenty of horror movies. This silence is luring us into a ‘false sense of security.’ We should actually _leave_ or else…”

The blaring sound of fire alarm drowned out any and all discussion.

The Math and Sciences Building was evacuated until the fire department arrived, investigated the building, and gave the all-clear to reenter the building.

The students returned to retrieve the rest of their belongings from class. The school day had officially come to an end.

“I’ve heard rumors about this place being haunted,” Raoul said to Christine as he collected his books and waited for her.

“I guess they’re true, then,” Christine responded.

“You don’t _actually_ believe it, do you?” Raoul laughed; albeit, nervously.

“There are a great many things in this world that cannot be explained, Raoul.”

“True, but _here_...it was probably faulty electrical wiring, nothing more,” he added sounding a bit more confident.

“I suppose, but earlier I…”

“Oh, Christine! Don’t let your imagination run away with you!”

Christine concealed her annoyance with him.

This was the second time today that Raoul had annoyed her. It was as if he saw her as nothing more than the same little girl from all those years ago...not as someone who’s grown and experienced so much since! Not to mention his constant interruptions of her! She felt as though every time she tried to speak or explain herself, he would not stop talking and just listen to her!

“Come on, Christine, I’ll walk with you to the bus stop. You need to catch me up on everything that happened to _you_ today!”

“ _Will_ _ **you**_ _be quiet long enough to listen_ _me_ _?”_ she thought extremely irritated.

She simply smiled at him as they exited the room.

* * *

Erik had watched Christine and Raoul leave together.

Jealousy continued to consume him while he stalked the underground back to the Arts and Letters Building.

At first, he felt extremely satisfied “haunting” the unsuspecting students; however, the purpose of taking such actions were to get Christine away from _him_...yet, it appeared to only bring them closer together!

The _ghost_ had been unappeased!

Erik pulled himself through the “trap door” in the practice room. After he set the carpeted tile back in place he knew he had to begin his task of taking care of all the school-owned string instruments.

 _H_ _is_ _punishment_.

* * *

Erik was alone in the auditorium. He knew Buquet was gone. He was always one of the first teachers to leave at the end of the day. Erik knew Buquet’s type—big ego, all bluster and no results. The type of individual to do the least amount of work and claim all the credit for himself! The other faculty that taught in the building also had left, and it would be hours before the janitorial staff reached the area.

* * *

The Arts and Letters Building was Erik’s favorite among the architectural relics still standing and still in full functional use on campus.

The grand staircase of white marble with a balustrade of red and green marble, divided into two divergent flights of stairs that lead to the Grand Foyer. There, it separated for the halls of the classrooms and into the theater. Large finely crafted heavy wooden double doors were closed to conceal the hallways when the theater was in use. The pedestals of the staircase were decorated with female torchères. The ceiling above the staircase depicted The Triumph of Apollo, The Enchantment of Music Deploying its Charms, and Minerva Fighting Brutality Watched by the Gods of Olympus.* All perfectly replicated.

Erik stood center stage and looked out into the house. The four-ton bronze and crystal chandelier* hung in the center of the rotunda. He had left the chandelier off and dimmed the lights in the house, and only kept some of the stage lighting on for his work.

Like the Palais Garnier, the interior consisted of interweaving corridors, stairwells, alcoves and landings, allowing the movement of large numbers of people and space for socializing during intermission. Rich with velvet, gold leaf, cherubim and nymphs, the interior is characteristic of Baroque sumptuousness.*

_Henri Geiger..._

“ _You certainly outdid yourself, Great Grandfather...*_ _”_

He released a resentful laugh.

“ _A_ _brilliant Parisian architect_ _immigrant_ _..._ _after_ _generations_ _his descendants_ _produce_ _d_ _a son_ _and heir_ _who squander_ _ed_ _his inheritance..._ _Henri Geiger_ _IV._ _..father…_ _I_ _ **never**_ _met the man!_ _Y_ _et,_ _ **I**_ _am_ _to_ _carry_ _his name!”_

He continued to stare into the dimly lit house.

Five balcony box seats were set around the theater. Mr. Poligny, the previous theater instructor, had given Erik exclusive use of Box 5 from his freshman through his junior year. Mr. Poligny had nothing but the upmost respect for Erik, given his brilliance and extensive knowledge in the performative arts. Now, with Buquet, Erik had been relinquished of all of his previous duties, leaving Erik angry and resentful.

Erik planned a solid month of revenge against Buquet for disrespecting and removing him from his “private” management of the theater. He figured a month would be enough time to weigh down Buquet and put an end to his arrogance. However, what Buquet had done to Christine this afternoon was unforgivable. To avenge Christine would require Erik’s undivided attention to the most minute of details in revising his plans in breaking Buquet’s will.

* * *

He started with laying out the guitars and violins on the stage, and put the replacement strings, tools, and cleaners on a work table located behind a plush curtain at stage left.

Taking one of the violins backstage, Erik began his work. It was not until the sound of a side door from the hall leading backstage creaked opened disturbed him from his task. Slightly annoyed, he figured it was simply the early arrival of the custodial staff. Putting the violin down he looked out from behind the curtain, still keeping himself hidden.

“ _It...it can’t be!”_

From stage right, Christine walked out to center stage. She looked into the great house and warmly smiled.

Erik’s body froze in shock as he stayed hidden watching her in disbelief.

“ _I thought she had left...I thought she had gone home for the day...”_

Slowly, she walked around the instruments laid out on the stage. Picking up one of the guitars she placed the strap over her head, rested it on her shoulder, and began to strum it. Finding it was dreadfully out of tune, she played a bit with the tuning pegs. Finally, she had gotten it tuned to her liking.

“Oh, father…” she spoke quietly out into the house.

“I don’t know what to do! I feel so lost, so unsure about everything. I’m scared…” her voice cracked.

Upon hearing this, Erik clutched his chest.

“ _Please...please don’t cry...my angel...”_

“...I know I sound crazy talking to myself, but this stage...this building reminds me of when you took me to the Palais Garnier to hear you play…”

Oh, how Erik ached to comfort her! He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and wipe away her tears.

“...you promised that you would send me an angel of music to guide me...to teach me...I’ve never felt so alone…”

“ _Christine...no...please don’t feel alone...I will be with you...somehow...”_

“...you know how you used to tease Auntie about loving British shoe-gazer rock?” Christine couldn’t help but chuckle through her tears.

“I know there were some of those bands you secretly loved...there was a song made me think about you...”

_[If you walked in now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJGSXAY6MWs) _

She played guitar so beautifully, but when she sang, Erik felt a surge of electricity running through his veins and he could not breathe.

“ _Her voice…”_

Her emotions and the song were one. She sang with raw power! Her voice had such untapped potential! All the qualities that Cari’s voice had severely lacked in all of her performances just flowed and came naturally to Christine. Her voice had taken hold of Erik and wound around him in a tight embrace. Tears began to fall from his eyes and dampen the surgical mask resting on his cheek bones. He could not hold himself back any longer. His desire for the music she made made him want to join her in expression that they may become one. He picked up the violin he had been working on and finished, and began to accompany her while remaining hidden on stage left.

As Christine continued to sing, she thought she heard the faintest sound of a violin playing from somewhere in the house.

When she concluded, she stared out at the dimly lit house.

“Father...I miss you so much...”

Erik’s emotions overwhelmed him. He thoughtlessly started to place the violin back down on the work table, but he had misjudged the area causing the violin to crash to the floor producing a loud sound of hollow wood and vibrating strings.

Startled by the sound, she turned her head towards stage left and with trepidation called out, “Hello? Is...is _anyone_ there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations: 
> 
> Estelle. “10 Haunted School Stories That Made The News.” Listverse, 2018. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.  
> Lush. “When I Die.” Split, 1994. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020: www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJGSXAY6MWs  
> (and personal favorite)  
> Unknown. “Course Syllabus.” Hudson High School Chemistry, year unknown. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.  
> Wikipedia. “Palais Garnier.” Wikipedia. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos kind anon!
> 
> Thank you new readers and loyal readers!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With appreciation and love, my friend!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS REFERENCES TO CHILD ABUSE.

**TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS REFERENCES TO CHILD ABUSE.**

* * *

Many mirrors were broken over the years within the Belshaw household.

If Erik were ever given a choice (which he was not) of beatings, being locked in the dark closet for hours, starved, or the mirror, Erik would have chosen the first three all at once, rather than see his own reflection.

When he was a child, the mirror was his family’s crowning disciplinary action for him. How his grandparents enjoyed every moment of putting him in the bathroom and locking him in! How they enjoyed listening to his panic attacks! They would only unlock the door if it grew silent because he had either passed out from exhaustion, he was injured or debilitated in some way, or he was bleeding to death…

* * *

Erik had been informed of and brought to the ornate gilded mirror before the start of his freshman year. He despised the various sized cherub angels with their dopey faces, and viewed the roses as chintzy decor. Rather than find the mirror exquisite, as many others had found it for almost a century, Erik found it gaudy and pretentious. To him, it was the absolute display of human vanity.

* * *

Mr. Gaston Poligny, was considered one of the great theatrical legends who helped shape the role of the modern Broadway director.*

Early in his career, Mr. Poligny worked with George Abbott. Both Abbott and Poligny were early champions for the importance of a musical’s book, insisting that the story be strong enough to stand alone without the score.*

Like Abbott, Mr. Poligny was a writer who wrote books that contributed to several of the classic musicals. He went beyond his role as director and worked on many productions’ creative teams, creating and shaping the vision for the entire production. In doing so, he was a pioneer at establishing the director’s prominent role within production.*

While working with Lee Strasberg, he learned the importance of the improvisatory approach to acting by using real-life memories to approximate the emotions of the character being played.* Through method acting, Poligny brought forth his actors deepest emotions. He gained a reputation for being one of the most empathetic directors on Broadway. Marilyn Monroe, who worked very closely with Strasberg, said of Poligny, “He knows where to look and find the real me within.”

When he announced his retirement from Broadway, a New York University Tisch School interviewer asked Mr. Poligny if he was resentful of his good friend and colleague, Hal Prince’s 21 Tony Awards* compared to just his 20? Mr. Poligny laughed and responded, “I’m not dead yet, Hal!”

Once he retired from Broadway, he truly missed thetheater. Mr. Reyer, a long time friend of his informed him that Paris High School was in need of a theater director. Mr. Poligny decided that the position was just the right fit for him at this point in his life post-Broadway.

* * *

Mr. Poligny and Mr. Reyer were asked to come to the Administration Building to review one of their upcoming freshman student’s confidential records from Child Protective Services.

The boy’s picture was the first item in the folder.

Both men stared at the image for quite sometime before turning to the CPS case manager and school guidance counselor.

Feelings of sadness and pity overwhelmed them.

“What...what happened to this poor boy...Erik?...” Mr. Reyer could barely find his voice.

Mr. Reyer’s question opened the door for candid discussion among the group.

“His mother used narcotics before and during her pregnancy…”

“...grandparents ‘took care’ of him...mother was in and out…she remained an addict after Erik was born...”

“...never knew his father...”

“...severe physical and mental abuse have been constant…”

“...starved...severely malnourished...”

“I see there is a some-what happy ending here...he has been removed from the home!” Mr. Poligny sighed with relief.

“...he has undergone severe trauma...”

“...preparing to deal with post traumatic stress...”

“...extensive therapy...”

“...he will be wearing a mask to school...there are some accommodations that must be met for him before his official start date…”

“There is a large mirror backstage…” Mr. Poligny spoke out after reading case report after case report of Erik’s family using mirrors as forms of torture.

“...he will be given prior notification and be counseled prior to seeing the mirror…”

“...before the term begins he will need to be walked through the school…”

* * *

When Mr. Poligny and Mr. Reyer finally met Erik they were surprised at his height and stature. For a twelve year old boy, he was over six feet tall! Sure, they had read it in his file, but seeing was truly believing!

They found Erik to be extremely shy, very respectful, and very attentive; however, Mr. Poligny recognized an innocent mischievous twinkle in his eye, that he himself was quite familiar with.

Once the school year had officially begun, Mr. Poligny and Mr. Reyer learned very quickly that Erik was a prodigy in all subject areas, especially music. Mr. Reyer strongly encouraged Erik to expand his knowledge of stage craft and work with Mr. Poligny.

Both teachers became positive role-models to Erik, and both teachers couldn’t have asked for a better student.

Erik had assisted Mr. Poligny with the theater productions his freshman year.

Unbeknownst to Erik, Mr. Poligny knew that it was Erik who had been mercilessly playing practical jokes on many of the student actors and stage hands; and so, rumors that the Fine Arts and Letters Building was haunted had begun. Over the course of a few short weeks, rumors spread like wild fire and were not limited to just the Fine Arts and Letters Building. Mr. Poligny did enjoy a good ghost story, and kept the knowledge of Erik’s “hauntings” to himself—not even revealing the truth to the extremely superstitious Mr. Reyner.

Erik’s hard work and genuine interest for the theater so impressed Mr. Poligny that he requested to the Board of Directors that Erik be given permission to work with him over the summer. The internship was approved.

* * *

Before the start of his internship, Erik asked Mr. Poligny if the gilded mirror could be covered on the days that he would be working in that area; without hesitation, Mr. Poligny had the mirror covered.

Not too long after school was out for the summer, one late June morning, Erik was tasked to unpack and catalog the new stage lights. The boxes were delivered and placed backstage.

As he bent down to remove the packed light from the large box, the strap holding the surgical mask behind Erik’s ear had popped loose, and given the weightlessness of the thin strap, Erik did not feel the paper mask sliding from the side of his face.

Erik also did not anticipate just how compacted the light was in the box. He fell back into the mirror causing the covering to fall from the frame, partially exposing the reflective surface. In that instant, he felt the mask slide coming to rest on the side of his face, leaving him to stare at his reflection.

His face. His grotesque monstrous face. Extreme, primitive anger and rage caused him to disassociate, as a visceral tirade of physical violence and self-abuse began.*

Tears fell down his face as he stared at himself in revulsion. He began to beat the mirror with his fists in a vein attempt to break the glass. His impulsive, aggressive, behavior ended when he took the unpacked stage light and violently smashed it into the mirror, causing a great explosion of glass and around him.

From his office, Mr. Poligny heard the sounds of wailing and glass breaking. When he found Erik on his knees among the broken glass and shards, Mr. Poligny feared the boy had severely hurt himself. He saw Erik’s hands covered in blood, but what was most shocking to Mr. Poligny was Erik’s silence.

“Erik?…” he quietly called.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME! DON’T LOOK AT ME!” Erik yelled, while attempting to cover his face with his bloody hands.

Still in a state of shock, Mr. Poligny kept his distance, but he still knew the boy was suffering. He quietly waited in the hopes that Erik would calm himself down. He noticed the surgical mask hanging from Erik’s ear and the broken strap stuck to his neck from the blood. Mr. Poligny’s heart broke as he listened to Erik’s sobs. Blood was smeared all over his face. Was the blood from his hands or from cuts on his face; Mr. Poligny did not know, but he knew that he had to act fast.

Leaving Erik, Mr. Poligny went to retrieve the first aid kit.

Slowly, Erik began to collect himself. He continued to cover his face with his hands, but he shifted his attention from his current situation and focused on what appeared to be a passage way behind the broken glass. At this time, his exploration of the underground had not taken him this far. This area was new, unexplored, and uncharted territory for him. The distraction of the unveiled tunnel brought him back from his rage, but he felt extremely exhausted.

When Mr. Poligny returned with the first aid kit he called out and cautiously approached Erik.

Grabbing the remains of the surgical mask, Erik pulled it over his face and held it tightly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Poligny! I…”

“Erik! Please, get yourself out of that broken glass and let me help you!”

Erik did as he was told.

“I...I just...”

“There is no need for explanations, Erik.”

“If you no longer want me here, I understand…”

“Of course I want you here! My dear boy, you have so much passion trapped within you! You must harness that passion and learn to control it!”

“But...the mirror…”

“The mirror be damned! The glass is easily replaceable! It is _you_ that is not!”

“You sound like Pedar Bashir.”

“Then he must be a wise man!”

The two smiled as Mr. Poligny helped to clean his hands.

“As a theater director, I have come across a great many things, Erik. If you feel that this could be of some help to you, please take it…”

Mr. Poligny presented Erik with a flesh-colored soft leather mask. The mask covered the top half of the face, complete with eye holes, a small nose, and cheek coverings; leaving only the lips and jaw exposed. It secured behind the ears with leather straps.

After cleaning his hands of the blood, he took the mask, turned his head away from Mr. Poligny and placed it over his face. It felt different, but it was a sufficient temporary replacement.

“Thank you, I will return it to you tomorrow.”

“It is for you, Erik. Keep it, I insist.”

That afternoon Mr. Poligny stared at the broken mirror.

“So, there seems to be a bit of a secret behind this mirror,” he noted to Erik.

“I don’t suppose you took notice of it, did you? Hmmm...it could be haunted…”

Erik shot a fearful look at Mr. Poligny.

“It’s a good thing I don’t believe in ghosts, isn’t it?” Mr. Poligny smiled reassuring Erik.

Mr. Poligny ordered and paid for a new sheet of glass for the mirror. Erik was most insistent that he would install it to make up for the damage he did.

At first Mr. Poligny was hesitant, but he allowed it.

Erik had plans for the new glass, but it required exploration of the tunnel behind the mirror before he made his idea come to fruition. Given the original frame, he could not make the new mirror a literal “door,” but he knew he could get valuable usage out of the mirror from an observational point-of-view.

The tunnel lead to so many areas of the theater that Erik had not known! Accessing the school through the tunnels, Erik made the glass a two-way mirror, doing his work at night, alone, and in secret.

Using reflective glass film he “borrowed” from the photography and art studios he carefully placed self-adhering reflective film over the glass and smoothed it into place using a rubber squeegee. Carefully, he set the glass in the frame with the reflective side out.*

* * *

_At present..._

Erik’s emotions overwhelmed him. He thoughtlessly started to place the violin back down on the work table, but he had misjudged the area causing the violin to crash to the floor producing a loud sound of hollow wood and vibrating strings.

Startled by the sound, Christine turned her head towards stage left and with trepidation called out, “Hello? Is...is _anyone_ there?”

“ _NO! DAMN IT!”_

Erik panicked. How could he be so _careless_?! So _reckless_?! He found himself cornered and unable to think rationally. What could he do? In a matter of seconds he had to make a choice: make his presence known to her or hide himself from her.

He did what any young man in his situation would do. He silently fled the area.

If he were any other high school student this would be comical. Comical, _indeed_.

He escaped into one of the adjoining instrument lockers, and using the key ring in his pocket, he unlocked a maintenance door and secluded himself. The door opened to a series of electrical equipment used for the house; however, within the maze of machines there was a hollow opening in the concrete wall that led to the tunnel behind the backstage mirror. He watched and waited. The mirror’s position was centered where it could be seen by both stage right and stage left.

Christine gathered up her courage and slowly walked towards stage left.

“Hello?” she timidly called.

She tightly held the guitar’s neck should she need to use the instrument to suddenly defend herself. Cautiously pushing the plush curtain to her side, she saw the work table. Looking down she saw the violin and bow laying on the floor.

“Who’s back here? Hello?” she called out again, as she picked the instrument up and examined it.

Erik watched her.

He placed his head against the glass as a battle raged between his mind and his heart. His mind was strong, cruel and abusive, while his heart, felt weak; but willing to fight, willing to make the case for its’ actions.

“ _Idiot! Look at what **she** does to you! CLUMSY! CARELESS! THOUGHTLESS!”_

Erik’s rational mind balked at him.

“ _She is just a girl!_ _She_ _distract_ _s you_ _!…”_

“ _No, s_ _he is kind and good to me. She is_ _ **not**_ _just a girl! She’s...an angel..._ _ **my**_ _angel...”_

“ _You damn fool! You damn **cowardly** fool! LOOK AT YOU! **HIDING**! HIDING FROM...A GIRL!”_

“ _She **is** beauty itself...she has such intelligence for someone of her years! Such talent...her voice!…”_

Christine placed the violin and bow onto the work table as she turned and gasped. The mirror! Never having see it before, the sight of it overwhelmed her. Apprehensively, she approached it, taking in all of its’ ornate beauty.

Erik’s eyes widened and he held his breath as he watched her approach.

“ _It is not_ _ **you**_ _she is approaching!_ _She cannot see you...did you forget that,_ _you absent-minded_ _moron?”_

Christine reached out her hand and touched the frame.

“How... _lovely_ …” she breathed.

Her fingers traced over the details of the cherubs and the roses, feeling each and every intricate detail of the subjects.

How her presence held such power over him!

Erik could not help himself when her eyes unknowingly locked with his as she stared at her reflection. Nervously, he brought his hand up to her face. With trembling fingers he traced her cheek from his side of the glass. He desperately wished that he could truly demonstrate his affection for her and not be obstructed by thin glass between them.

She then turned away from the mirror and began to walk towards the stage.

“ _No! Christine! Please...don’t leave! Please...not yet!”_

_Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!  
Tu pure, o Principessa  
Nella tua fredda stanza  
Guardi le stelle che tremano  
D'amore e di speranza!*_

Christine stopped and turned back to the mirror. The voice that sang trapped her in its embrace. Closing her eyes, she allowed the voice to take her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:
> 
> Crosson-Tower, Cynthia. “The Role of Educators in Preventing and Responding to Child Abuse and Neglect.” U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Administration for Children and Families Administration on Children, Youth and Families Children’s Bureau Office on Child Abuse and Neglect, 2003. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Culwell-Block, Logan. “Broadway 101: 10 Directors Every Broadway History Nerd Should Know.” Playbill, 2017. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Me, Little Ol’: It is true that Marilyn Monroe worked with Lee Strasberg. I decided to use her as a repeatable source as one of the actors under Poligny’s direction to further enhance Poligny’s ability to empathize with his actors. 2020.
> 
> Puccini. “Nessun dorma.” Turandot, 1926. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Skujins, Angela. “Do ‘Rage Blackouts’ Actually Exist?” Vice, 2017. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Weber, Josh. “How to make a 2-way mirror.” HomeSteady, 2017. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Unknown. “Best Opera Songs Ever | 20 Most Popular Opera Arias of All Times | Opera.” Chosic, 2019. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you KayKitten and kind anon for leaving me kudos, I greatly appreciate it! 
> 
> And thank you, all for giving this little high school AU a chance!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and cannon. With appreciation and love, my friend.

As Christine stared at her reflection, Erik could not help himself when her eyes unknowingly locked with his. From his side of the glass, he nervously brought his hand up to her face, and with trembling fingers he delicately traced the right side of her cheek. He wished so desperately that he could demonstrate his affection for her without the thin glass between them; while paradoxically, being grateful that the glass shielded her from him. She would never...would she…?

She reached up to the mirror and laid her hand carefully against the cool glass. Following her lead, he, too, placed his hand against her’s. Oh how close! How painfully close! The glass between them separated him from her! But, so close…

Yet, it was _he_ who put this barrier between them!

“ _Coward!_ _ **You**_ _ran from her!”_ he scolded himself.

“ _Ha_ _s_ _she not all ready proven that she was_ _ **not**_ _repulsed by_ _the sight of_ _you_ _? Ha_ _s_ _she not all ready proven that she was_ _ **willing**_ _to touch_ _you_ _without fear_ _? Ha_ _s_ _she not all ready proven that_ _she does not see you as a monster_ _?_ _”_

“ _Was it not **you** who has rejected her through **your** silence, **your** rude actions today...last night? **You** turned away from her! **You** caused her tears!” _

How he continued to wish he could undo everything he _had_ done!

When she looked at her reflection for a second time, he forced himself to look deeply into her eyes. Within them, he saw an angel of beauty only wishing to find herself—her purpose. There was such innocent longing in her eyes.

He wanted to ask her so many questions, but how? How could he ask her anything? When she was near him he could not find his voice! He could not find his reason! _She_ wielded such power over him that she was completely unaware! It was _she_ who intimidated him!

She released a soft sigh. Taking her hand off the mirror, she turned away, and began her walk back towards the open stage.

 _“_ _No! Christine!_ _P_ _lease...don’t leave! Please...not yet!”_

He felt an instant sense of loss, an absence forming in his heart as he watched her take her leave.

He had to do something ! Quickly, he removed his mask and sang ...

_Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!  
Tu pure, o Principessa  
Nella tua fredda stanza  
Guardi le stelle che tremano  
D'amore e di speranza!*_

...

The voice held Christine still. She recognized the song instantly…“Nessun Dorma,” from Puccini's opera _Turandot_...an aria sung by the unknown prince, Calaf. Slowly, she turned and faced the mirror.

“ _How?...the voice is..._ _is_ _coming from the mirror?...”_

The voice’s sound was young, thrilling and vibrant!* Direct and passionate* in its’ delivery, it so enchanted her that she walked back to the mirror and knelt at its’ base. Closing her eyes, the voice hypnotized her into a peaceful trance, causing her to rest her head against the glass letting the voice consume her.

_Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,  
il nome mio nessun saprà!*_

_..._

The voice was powerful, emotional, captivating—growing in passion.* The phrases of the aria washed over her in waves,* begging...no, a declaration, for her to guess its’ secret…

The silky melody, the emotive arc of the full, gorgeous tenor voice continued the aria to its’ build-up, and then the final, victorious cry...*

…

_All'alba vincerò!  
vincerò, vincerò! * _

Then it was silent.

Erik knelt down beside her, his mask loosely hanging from his left hand. He wished they could stay together in this shared reverie.

“ _S_ _he could never find solace with_ _ **me**_ _..._ _but_ _at least she has found solace in_ ** _my_** _voice.”_

Again, Christine looked at her reflection and unknowingly stared into his eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked softly.

The sincerity of her eyes and the quietness of curious question paralyzed him. He did not anticipate nor prepare himself for her to speak! He began to panic.

Nadir’s voice repeated in his mind...

 _Only_ **_you_ **_can control_ _your_ _situation._ **_You_ **_want a good outcome?_ _T_ _hen lead into_ _it_ _with good intentions..._

“ _How do I answer_ _…? What do I do?_ _!”_

“ _What’s wrong_ ** _you_ **_brain_ _les_ _s_ _twit_ _?”_ the abusive mental side of him mocked.

 **“** ** _ **You** _ ** _got_ **_**yourself** _ ** _into this!_ **_**You** _ ** _ran from her,_ _remember?_ _Now,_ **_**you’ve** _ ** _painted_ **_**yourself** _ ** _into a corner! Whatever shall_ **_**you** _ ** _do?”_

His heart calmly appealed.

“ _H_ _as she not_ _all ready_ _done enough to earn_ _your_ _trust? **She** does not deserve deception!”_

His heart was right. She deserved truth from him.

Did he not vow to himself earlier that day that he owed her so much?

_His angel..._

Without a sound, he took himself back to the instrument locker. Timidly, he stood in the doorway shrouded in darkness, staring at her as she continued to kneel at the foot of the mirror. He touched his face making sure that his mask was secure.

“Christine…” he quietly called to her.

A chill ran up her back when she heard the soft familiar voice calling her name.

Instantly, she stood from the mirror and looked in the direction where she heard her name. There in the darkness, she saw shining golden amber eyes staring at her.

_Those eyes..._

As her eyes further adjusted to the darkness...a realization dawned on her.

“ _...i_ _s it…? It c_ _ouldn’t be…”_

She recognized the amber and gold color of the eyes...but how...how were they glowing?

“Who’s there?” her voice trembled.

Erik, forced himself to move forward, slowly...cautiously towards her.

“Please...Christine, don’t be afraid…”

“...Erik?...I...I don’t understand?”

Could he explain himself to her? What if she grew angry with him? He could not get past his fear of her rejecting him. That fear has stayed in his heart from the moment he first saw her. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear the pain of it!

“Your voice…” he stopped and kept a distance between them.

“My...my voice? What do you mean? Did you...you heard me?”

Embarrassed, she turned away from him.

“Please...do not be embarrassed, Christine. Your voice...it...it…”

Slowly turning to glance behind her, she saw him still attempting to hold eye contact with her.

“I thought I was alone! You...you heard me talking to my...why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you say you were back there?”

Feeling humiliated she held her head down, crossed her arms, and kept her back turned to him.

“I...I’m sorry. But your voice…” he continued on.

“What about my voice, Erik?” she sighed.

“It is...remarkable…” he breathed.

“...remarkable?”

“You sing with such emotion…”

“You...I thought I imagined it...it was you playing the violin, wasn’t it?”

“Yes...but the way you sang...your voice has such great potential…”

“Great...potential? I...I don’t understand…”

“I...I can teach you...tutor you...”

“...teach me? Teach me to...sing?”

She turned to fully face him. Her action caused him to reflexively take a step back.

“Erik, I…”

“I...I can help enhance your...your voice. You have a gift, Christine! A natural talent that many professional singers lack…”

“It was you who sang “Nessun Dorma!” Erik, it is you who have talent! You sounded incredible! I could _never_ achieve such...such beauty!”

Her compliment caused his heart to skip a beat, as he felt his face grow hot under the mask.

“But...how did you...your voice was coming from the mirror…”

She turned her head back to the mirror in a confused gesture, then back to him.

“How? How did you…”

He grew quiet avoiding her eyes.

“I don’t understand...there is so much I don’t understand…”

She walked closer to him.

Again, he took a step back.

“ _...i_ _t’_ _s_ _almost as if he_ _is_ _...shy…uncertain…_ _afraid...why?_ _”_

“Erik...can we be friends?”

His reaction surprised her. He responded without words, but his eyes instantly locked with her’s. Again, she could not deny it to herself that she was misreading him. His golden amber eyes were truly smiling, bright and beautiful just like sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:  
> Dalley, Jan. “The Life of a Song: ‘Nessun Dorma.’” Financial Times, 2015. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Green, Aaron. “'Nessun Dorma' Song Lyrics: The Translation of Calaf's Aria from Puccini's 'Turandot.’”  
> liveaboutdotcom, 2018. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.  
> Translation:  
> Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!  
> Tu pure, o Principessa  
> Nella tua fredda stanza  
> Guardi le stelle che tremano  
> D'amore e di speranza!  
> Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,  
> il nome mio nessun saprà!
> 
> Nobody shall sleep!...  
> Nobody shall sleep!  
> Even you, oh Princess,  
> in your cold room,  
> watch the stars,  
> that tremble with love and with hope.  
> But my secret is hidden within me,  
> my name no one shall know!  
> ...  
> All'alba vincerò!  
> vincerò, vincerò!  
> At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!
> 
> Thompson, Warick. “Puccini’s ‘Nessun Dorma:’ Masterpiece Guide Featuring Pavarotti.” Udiscovermusic., 2019. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Unknown. “Nessun Dorma: A Precise And Reasoned Breakdown Of Why It's The Most Harrowing Aria Out There.” Classic FM Digital Radio|100-102 FM, 2020. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, the_ninetailed_fox for your kind and encouraging comment!   
> Thank you, Agnessie and Agnessie, Mary_B, munchiedi, and guests for you kudos!  
> ...and thank you to all who are and continue to give my little High School AU a chance!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation (as seen in Chapter 1) and canon (I spelled it right this time!). With gratitude and love, my friend.
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNING: PAST CHILD ABUSE*

***TRIGGER WARNING: PAST CHILD ABUSE***

“Erik...can we be friends?”

_...when she was near him he could not find his voice! He could not find his reason! She wielded such power over him that she was completely unaware! It was she who intimidated him!_

_Christine…_

Now, her very presence was more intimidating than anything he could imagine.

Yet…

Was it not _him_ who intimidated others? It had become routine for him to play the part of a ghost—a phantom, gloating in their fear and finding joy in their anxiety. Such delights were found instilling dread into his peers, albeit as a ghost—a phantom, “haunting” his tormentors—his enemies?

***TRIGGER WARNING***

Even his own flesh-and-blood feared him; and, as with most _things_ that could not be accepted or comprehended, he was mistreated, beaten into submission, and ostracized.

As a child, his very existence earned him his mother’s fear and hatred. His own mother, in a haze of drugs and alcohol would shout at him that she deeply regretted not aborting, “the little demon!” That his face was a curse that _she_ had to endure everyday. That he should be eternally grateful to _her_ for his life! That he should be grateful for the life _she_ gave him!

When she was sober so couldn’t look at him.

She would shout and hiss, “That FACE! Why do you make _me_ look at it! GET AWAY FROM ME! Get _THE_ MASK...THE MASK...PUT. IT. ON! My God! You can’t even do that much for _me_!”

As he grew older he observed a great deal and gained the knowledge that his mother was deathly afraid of spiders. Carrying several jars and a bag into the great field behind his grandparent’s house, he collected wolf spiders, then coming home he would release them and strategically place them beneath the covers of his mother’s bed.

Once her bedroom door would close for the night, he patiently waited. When her screams pierced through the Belshaw household, he wickedly smiled and laughed into his tattered pillow, very proud of the results of his work.

***STORY CONTINUES HERE***

But _now…_

Christine...beautiful Christine...offered him friendship! He could not fathom it.

Her words shocked him. He was so completely taken off guard that he had no control over his own reactions. He felt the smile form beneath his mask—such a simple, natural reaction to her question—a reaction he found himself having the more he spent time with her. His eyes, they too, smiled! He stared at her with such awe. How he felt like weeping oversuch painful joy!However, within the next moment he instantly wrapped his arms around himself and cast his eyes down.

Christine grew confused as she watched his emotions rapidly change.

“ _He was just so happy a moment ago...but now...now…”_

“Erik?” she took another step towards him.

Again, he instinctively stepped back further into the darkness of the area.

“I...I do not deserve your...your friendship, Christine,” he responded.

His voice, somber and melancholic drew her closer to him.

“I...I don’t understand. Erik, have _I_ hurt you in some way?”

“NO!” he defensively objected, his voice echoed into the empty theater.

Startled, but no less determined, Christine stood her ground and timidly continued to look into his eyes.

“Then why?”

Was _he_ not the one, who wanted to ask her so many questions? Was _he_ not the one who wanted to speak with her—have conversations with her? Was it not just a day ago, that _he_ prejudged her—going so far as to rationalize to _himself_ that she was unintelligent? Oh, how she had proven him wrong! In less than 24 hours, she unknowingly disrupted his entire life!

_Just as she showed you kindness, show her kindness in return..._

“ _Nadir...I..._ _I_ _have to do something...but what?! HOW?!_ _How could a vile monster even begin to speak in the presence of an angel?”_

“After all I have done...why would you want to be friends...with _me_?”

“After all _you’ve_ done?” she asked genuinely confused.

“I...I never meant to make you feel as though I hated you. When you confronted me in French, it made me realize my behavior was wrong. I never meant to be so...so rude tos you. I...I never meant to make you...cry,” he ended just above a whisper.

Ashamed, he forced himself to turn away from her. He let his arms down to his sides. His hands curling into fists, his fingers digging into his palms, unconsciously upsetting the gauze bandage.

“Erik!”

Without hesitation, Christine swiftly approached him and carefully held onto his hands.

The quickness of her graceful, gentle actions astonished him.

“Please don’t hurt yourself! What’s wrong? Please...please tell me…”

Her words and eyes were not afraid to confront him.

“I...I’m sorry…” he quietly answered.

“Promise me…”

_Erik..._ _please..._ _will you_ _promise me…_

“ _Her request...she...she remembered...she remember...me!”_

“...you won’t hurt yourself…please...”

Her concern overwhelmed him! Never did he think _anyone_ would take notice of his self-harm; and here, _she_ had! She truly wanted to be his friend! Had he not read in so many books of people who cared about and for others? His life experiences had only taught him that such people belonged in fiction, or perhaps such individuals were meant for other people who were made “whole.”

He sharply drew in his breath as his hands held a firmer grip around her’s.

Christine’s eyes continued to search his.

“Erik, please promise me...”

He could deny her nothing. Silently, slowly he nodded his head. His response caused her to smile.

_Her smile…_

“ _I..._ _ **I**_ _made her smile! To be given such a gift!_ _An angel’s smile_ _...but I have nothing_ _in return_ _to give!”_

_Just as she showed you kindness, show her kindness in return..._

“Christine...I...I would like it…”

She tilted her head to the side, curiously, patiently waiting for him.

“...to be friends…”

Her smile grew.

“ _Such radiance…”_

_Christine…_

“Erik, were you serious before...about tutoring me?”

“Why would you not think I was serious?” his voice a deep whisper.

She removed her hands from his and adverted his eyes.

“I...I just feel so embarrassed...I didn’t mean for anyone to hear me sing.”

“I meant it when I said you have a natural gift. Your voice has such great potential, but if you continue to go untrained...without guidance…”

“I just wish you would have said _something_. I…”

“I’m sorry. I hope one day you could forgive me.”

The humility in his voice caused her to look into his eyes. There she saw his remorse. There was sincerity behind his words.

“I do forgive you, Erik.”

How she confounded him! How she could forgive him so easily? _H_ _e_ had never forgiven anyone who wronged him.

“How…? How could you?”

Puzzled by his question, she again, took his hands causing him to lock eyes with her’s.

“I can forgive you because you are truly sorry, and you’re my friend.”

Tears formed in his eyes, but through many years of practice he hid them well. How she continued to constantly surprise him!

_Christine...angel…_

“I would like it very much if you tutored me, please.”

He felt such overwhelming joy...no, he felt _elated_ at her acceptance! How could he ask for anything more! She smiled for _him_! She offered _him_ friendship! In return, he found himself humbled before her. Now he could share with her his joy, his life’s blood, his everything—his music. Yet, he dared to ask for more.

“Christine…?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Sing for me.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank all of you for your patience! A lot of very wonderful positive out of my control things have been happening over here in my real life, and for those things I am very grateful!
> 
> Thank you all beautiful readers and lovely new readers for giving this little high school AU a chance!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I've missed these two. ;)
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and canon. With love and sincerest appreciation, my friend.

_Earlier…_

“You never answered my question, Meg.”

Nadir stood by her desk as she gathered up her belongings.

“What?”

“Your favorite subject? But before you answer _that_ question, would you mind if I walked with you to your next class?”

“ _Walk with **me** to class…?!”_

Meg dumbly nodded. She tried her best to hide her shock behind the widest (albeit, she thought, the goofiest) grin she ever publicly allowed herself to make.

“So, which direction are you headed?” Nadir smiled.

“ _Nadir Khadem is walking with me... **me**! Oh my GOD! Did...did he just ask me a question? Damn it! I didn’t hear what he said! SHIT!”_

“I’m sorry?"

“Where are you off to?”

Meg tried to continue to look ahead in her walk, but she couldn’t help herself, she turned her head covertly to glance at him; again, losing her concentration.

“ _Damn he’s so tall! Then again, anyone would look like a giant compared to my short ass. Mmmm,_ _nicely_ _built...FUCK!_ _Why do you have to be..._ _you_ _?!_ _Jesus! Just a_ _ct normal, Meg! Act_ _ **normal**_ _! He’s a human just like_ _ **you**_ _!”_

“AP Art History.”

“That would mean that you’re headed to Arts and Letters…”

“Yeah, Little Garnie”

“Little Garnie?”

“You know, Palais Garnier? Little Garnie.”

“I have never heard it called that before…”

“Meh, that’s what I call it.”

“Oh, um, well...I stay here.”

“You stay here?”

“Yes, I have AP Microeconomics.”

“Heh, you mean you _live_ here…”

“ _OH FUUUUUUUCK! DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD?!_ ” Meg felt her face growing hot.

“ _Shit! Shit! Shit! Move your ass, Meg! Save some face, damn it!”_

“Uh, I guess this is good bye then,” Meg did her best to hide behind her flurry of multicolored hair and made her legs move quicker trying to walk further away from him in humiliation.

“ _Oh, hurpdedurp, you live here...stupid!_ _”_

“Hold on! Hold on! Meg, wait up!” Nadir sped up his walking to keep up with her.

“ _He wants me to wait up for him?! Shit, I must have done something **really** good sometime in the karmatic universe to have **all** of this happen to **me** just **today**!” s_he smiled to herself.

“Meg, I’d still like to walk with you, if that’s ok?”

“ _...‘_ _I_ _’d still like to m_ _arry you...if that’s ok?’ Hell YES I_ _WILL_ _…!”_

“If you want. I mean, if you’re sure you’re not going to be late or anything…”

“Nah, I can’t be late if I already _live_ here,” he chuckled.

Meg couldn’t help but chuckle along with him.

“ _He thought my sarcasm was funny…not off putting...”_

“You still haven’t answered my question, Meg.”

“ _Question_ _? FUCK!”_

“Favorite subject?” he gently reminded her.

“Art,” she answered, flatly.

“Just _art_?”

“...at least for now…”

“Really? I thought possibly dance.”

“ _Wait! He knows...I dance?!...oh, maybe he’s humoring me because of Ma…”_

“Meh, dance is fine, but I like to use other means of expression. I like to draw with a ton of different mediums. There’s a medium for every mood, you know?”

When they reached the exit, Nadir held the door for her as they both stepped out into the early afternoon sunshine and walked a bit down the sidewalk. They stopped at the courtyard.

Meg withheld from joking with Nadir regarding her feelings towards the sun. She didn’t want to present herself as too weird; after all, she felt that just being seen with her in public was enough humiliation for him.

“So what about you ‘future American leader?’” throwing a little snark emphasis on Dr. Papin’s earlier comment.

“Somehow, I can easily see you as _the_ ambassador for world peace.”

“That’s funny, you’re not the first person to call me out on a future American leadership position today…”

“Oh? Who else referred to you as a ‘future American leader’ today?...and more importantly, did they give you a job title?”

“President of the United States.”

“Is that so?”

“His sense of humor differs from most, though...”

“Who?”

Nadir’s thoughts briefly drifted.

“ _Erik, did you have a chance to make your peace with Christine?”_

“What did you say, Meg?”

“I just asked you who said it?”

“Erik.”

“ _So, he did see Erik earlier…”_

“You know, now I’m the one still waiting for _your_ answer,” Meg playfully looked at her wrist pretending to stare at a watch and tapped her foot.

“To...?”

“Favorite subject?...but wait! Let me guess!” Meg stopped him from responding.

“Politics!”

“Is it _that_ obvious?”

“So...what’s my prize?”

“ _Say a date, hot stuff!”_

“First Erik says President, but you said something different ‘ambassador for world peace,’ is that right?”

“I said, _THE_ ambassador for world peace.”

Meg started talking like a superhero movie talk-over announcer.

“Yes, only _he_ can bring peace to this world! Coming to a theater this Christmas, Nadir Khadem is The Ambassador!”

Nadir laughed.

“Gee, thanks, Meg. It’s good to know that you’d be my Watchtower!”

“ _Fuck yeah! We’d totally be an awesome team!”_

“Hmm, I guess I can roll with being in the DC Universe!” she laughed back.

“Meg, what made you so accurately guess my favorite subject? I mean, is it because I live in the History and Humanities building or am I that predictable?”

Meg felt her hands getting sweaty and throat grow dry over his question.

“ _No, you’re not at all easily predicable, Nadir...as your stalker, it is **my** job to know all your classes, interests, hobbies, friends...whereabouts over the years...that doesn’t sound too creepy does it?”_

“You...um, are very…”

“ _Oh damn it...charming...charismatic...delicious...”_

“...diplomatic with everyone...and you’ve been a great class president in previous years...not that I pay attention to High School Government or anything...” she found her courage to answer him.

“Thanks, Meg. But it’s not just _politics._ I really hope to some day make a difference. I feel like so many people are underrepresented and their voices are not heard. Someone needs to stand up for them, speak up for them, and get the job done.”

Meg imagined herself to have large bright yellow twinkling stars in her eyes while she listened to him.

“You sound like a humanitarian,” she found herself sincerely commenting.

“I just think, everyone should want to actively engage in promoting positive changes to human welfare and social reforms.* There shouldn’t be any prejudice or human suffering.* The goal of every human being should be to keep lives safe, relieve suffering, and maintain human dignity.”*

“ _Keep lives safe, relieve suffering, and maintain human dignity..._ _like what you_ _and your family have done_ _for Erik?”_

“Sadly, prejudice is just as alive as ever,” Meg responded.

“I know, but it doesn’t have to continue,” Nadir answered.

Meg looked up at the large clock in the courtyard. Nadir followed her eyes and saw that the tardy bell was close to ringing.

“I’m sorry, Meg. I didn’t mean to waste your time with all of my pontificating!”

“ _Shit! Why does this have to come to an end?! I could listen to you forever Nadir Khadem…”_

“Hey, what are you doing after seventh period?”

“ _The fuck?”_

“I’m going to the dance studio for a bit…”

“I have color-guard.”

“Yeah, the ‘big’ home game is in a month, isn’t it?” Meg rolled her eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“ _I all ready said I would marry you...I hope you’re not bringing up children so soon…”_

“I was wondering if you could give me some input into the Fall Festival?”

Meg had to stop herself from snorting in Nadir’s face.

“What sort of input could I give? I’m not exactly big on the school spirit thing.”

“That’s all right. You don’t have to be big into school spirit. It’s just that...that you’re creative.”

Meg was afraid her white foundation was going to melt off from the heat of her blushing face.

“Oh? What would _my_ creativity have to do with the Fall Festival?”

“Well, um, as Student Body President, I need to come up with a theme, or _something_ for Fall Festival...and I don’t want to do the typical fall, pumpkins, leaves, and stuff. I really want something that stands out...something that will be remembered.”

“Labyrinth.”

“Not that that’s not a good idea, but do you know how much building a labyrinth would cost for a campus like this...in addition to the Festival?”

“No, no, no. I’m not saying _build_ a labyrinth. I’m saying the movie, _Labyrinth_. It’s got that awesome ball-room scene, and its’ plot and motifs all fit with fall _and_ Halloween perfectly…”

“Movie?”

“Nadir...it’s a...classic. David Bowie as the Goblin King? Jennifer Connelly has to save her baby brother from him? Came out in 1986? Are you telling me you’ve never seen _Labyrinth_?!”

Embarrassed, Nadir shook his head as he stared down at his shoes.

“I...I mean, I’ve _heard_ of it...”

“Oh, no! That’s gonna change...immediately, mister! We will have to watch it. Then we’ll talk about any of my input and planning. What are you doing tonight after color-guard?”

“It’s Friday. Other than studying over the weekend, I’ve got no plans tonight. How about I come to the dance studio after color-guard. That should be around six, would that work?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Then it’s a date!”

“ _A...a_ _da..._ _OH_ _. MY. GOD. I think I’m going to pass out…_ _ **I**_ _just asked_ _ **him**_ _what_ _ **he**_ _was doing tonight!_ _Of course it’s not a date date...but holy shit, a date...sigh..._ _”_

“Thanks and see you later, Meg!” Nadir turned and walked back towards the History and Humanities building.

Again, Meg tried her best to hide her shock (this time both at herself _and_ the situation) with an even larger and wider (and, she felt, an even more goofier than before) smile she had allowed herself to make publicly for the second time in one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:
> 
> Henson, Jim; Jones, Terry; Lucas, George; May, Elaine. Labyrinth, 1986. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Sokanu. “What does a humanitarian do?” CareerExplorer, year unknown. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> ofbeautsandbeasts did some fantastic selected scenes from Paris High School as a Christmas present for me! I cannot thank them enough...but that won't stop me from trying :D Please go and see for yourselves: https://www.deviantart.com/ofbeautsandbeasts
> 
> Thank you to dedicated followers and new followers, I appreciate you taking the time to read this little high school AU.
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and canon. With With appreciation and love my friend. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! :p
> 
> Dedicated to baepsyche

_I would like it very much if you tutored me, please..._

Christine’s acceptance caused Erik to feel such elation!

But...

“ _W_ _hat could a_ _monster_ _possibly give an angel in_ _return?_ _Christine! I know_ _that_ _anything_ _I_ _could_ _ever_ _give_ _you_ _would_ _be_ _un_ _worthy!_ _Nothing_ _could ever equal all_ _you_ _ha_ _ve_ _given to_ _me_ _!_ _All_ _I_ _ha_ _ve_ _to offer_ _you i_ _s_ _**my**_ _joy,_ _ **my**_ _life’s blood,_ _ **my**_ _everything..._ _ **my**_ _music._ _W_ _ould_ _you_ _accept_ _my_ _offering?_ _You_ _, whom_ _I_ _silently worship_ _and adore_ _,_ _you_ _offered_ _me._ _.._ _ **m**_ _ **e**_ _, a horrific creature, the beauty of_ _your_ _friendship!_ _You_ _b_ _less_ _ed_ _me_ _with_ _your_ _radiant_ _smile! Now,_ _ **now**_ _you are giving me_ _the gift of entrusting_ _me_ _with_ _your_ _voice!”_

Her voice.

Humbled before her, he could not help himself...dare he ask for more?

_Her voice..._ such hidden beauty, such potential, such emotion and power...a natural ability that to him, was seraphic.* _Her voice_ awoke in him a passion he never knew existed.

Yes, he dared ask for more.

“Christine…?”

She curiously looked into his eyes as she felt his fingers tenderly take a firmer grip on her hands.

“Sing for me.”

Erik’s tone was not demanding, but to Christine, it was not quite a request. She grew anxious. Her hands became cold, clammy, and felt like dead-weights at the end of her arms. Averting Erik’s eyes, her nerves became apparent to him. 

“Erik...I...I sound like a rusty hinge!* A yowling street cat on a fence! I...I was too quick with my decision! I...I’m sorry I can’t sing for you! I just can’t!”

She released his hands and stared down at the floor. Now it was she who wrapped her arms around her waist in a guarded stance.

“I...I have never sang in front of _anyone_ but my father and Toni…”

He repeated the name, “Tony?…” before he could control his jealous curiosity.

Oblivious to the intonation of jealously in Erik’s voice, Christine simply responded, “Yes, my guardian, Antonia Valerius. I’ve called her Toni or Auntie my whole life.”

Embarrassed, Erik raised his eyebrows in silent acknowledgment.

“ _I am such a_ _fool! Can she not casually mention a simple_ _name_ _to me_ _?!”_ he harshly chastised himself.

Timidly, her eyes met his. She could not escape the beauty of his shining golden-amber irises as they seemed to stare directly into the depths of her soul. Their unique color, glow, and intensity made her turn away from him ashamed. She could feel her chest becoming tight and a sorrow take hold of her. She walked away from him to the edge of the curtains on stage left, not fully going out onto the exposed stage.

“Christine?…” he quietly called after her.

She half turned to him with a sad smile.

“When my father was alive, music was such an important part of our lives. He would play the violin and I would sing. We had such wonderful times together! My father told me such wonderful stories.”

Erik attentively listened as he watched her turn to look out beyond the plush red and black curtains into the darkness of the empty theater. How he wished he could do _something_ for her...show her comfort just as she had!

“The stories he told were tales that he heard growing up. He was Swedish-American, but his parents were Swedish immigrants, so they told him many traditional Scandinavian fairy-tales…”

Erik continued listening, secretly enjoying learning more about her.

“My favorite story that he would tell was about the Angel of Music.* As a little girl, that story was what I loved most of all before I went to bed.”*

“Could...would you tell me the story?”

Again, Christine turned half way facing him.

“I can’t tell it the way he did…I will never do it any justice...”

“Christine, please tell me...tell me the way _you_ would tell it.”

She turned completely facing him, and saw that his eyes reflected the gentle curiosity in his voice.

“It was said...”

* * *

_To become a true musician, a person must have the discipline to practice, the dedication to the art, and the guidance of an accomplished teacher._ _I_ _n Scandinavian countries,_ _many were taught by family members or born into musical traditions. Sometimes,_ _there were other_ _musicians_ _who_ _wished to look for_ _easier, or_ _unconventional avenues that did not serve the music, but_ _served_ _their own selfish purposes,_ _and_ _completely bypass the true mastery of music_ _. It has been said that many a fiddler or singer had sold their souls to the devil, while others sought guidance from the spirits of nature* to make them a vessel of_ _the_ _otherworldly often_ _at_ _dangerous prices.*_ _Such people were not true musicians! Ney, they were a disgrace to the_ _art_ _!_

_Th_ _e legend says_ _those_ _who_ _have good consciences and_ _are pure of heart and soul_ _*_ _are visited by the Angel of Music._ _These musicians practice their scales..._ _l_ _earn their lessons,*_ _and_ _never_ _bargain with sinister beings._

_T_ _he Angel_ _of Music_ _once lived on Earth as a man before ascending into Heaven and becoming an archangel;*_ _but_ _regardless of his origins, t_ _he Angel is the master of the heavenly song.*_ _So elevated is his position, h_ _e gathers the prayers of the faithful and weaves the prayers into spiritual flower garlands to present to God.*_ _However, given his human origins before he ascended, the Angel of Music_ _also_ _i_ _s_ _known to be_ _mischievous_ _and wrathful_ _!_ _A_ _llow_ _ing_ _those in_ _doubt_ _to challenge him,_ _the Angel is always_ _victor_ _ious and severely_ _punishes those for their arrogance.*_

_He is the divine singer and bestows blessings upon singers and musicians.*_ _It is through the Angel that musicians are guided to use their_ _gifts_ _to make the world a better place.*_ _Their harmonious music delivers people from their pain,*_ _purifying the soul, just as medicine purifies the body!_

_S_ _ome say that no one ever sees the Angel; however,_ _there are_ _some that claim that they_ _have_ _truly seen him_ _!_ _Th_ _ose that claim to have seen him_ _say t_ _hat he is extremely tall and that his head reaches Heaven!*_

_Sometimes the Angel visits newborn babies! Yes, the Angel leans over a child’s cradle! That is how there are children who play instruments or sing at six years old better than old men!*_

_B_ _ut do not fret, my darling,_ _Christine_ _! Even if you do not see him,_ _if you are truly listening, you can hear him!_ _The Angel of Music visits great musician_ _s_ _and artist_ _s_ _at least once in their lives.*_

* * *

“I asked my father if he had ever heard or saw the Angel of Music. He admitted that he had not, but he told me that _I_ would hear him one day! Then my father said, and I did not think anything of his comment at the time, that when he is in Heaven he would send the Angel of Music to me.* He passed away not too long after.”

She turned away from Erik to conceal her tears. Looking out into the darkness and up at the chandelier’s crystals twinkling from the faint reflections of the dim lighting appearing like fairy lights onto the rotunda's ceiling.

“My father began to teach me the violin when I was very young, then the piano; and I sang for fun—for my own amusement! When my father...died, I…” her voice faded into a whisper.

Erik could bear it no longer. Silently, he moved towards her and took his place closely beside her. He lifted his trembling hand to reach for hers, but his fear and uncertainty caused him to not to touch her, no matter how desperately he wished it. He balled his hand into a fist and held it stiffly at his side.

She looked up at him as her tears slowly fell down her cheeks.

“ _What can_ _ **I**_ _do for her? How can_ _ **I**_ _comfort her?”_ he sorrowfully asked himself.

“Oh, Erik, I lost all my interest in singing! It took everything in me not to lose _all_ of my music...to not give it all up! I...I couldn’t, I _didn’t_ want to lose _th_ _ose_ parts of him, too!”

“And what of the Angel of Music?” she laughed, bitterly.

“I have come to think that it must truly be a thing of legends and stories! _I_ have not heard him, and to be honest, I have lost all hope in _ever_ hearing him!”

Embarrassed, she began to quickly wipe away her tears and look out into the house while Erik gazed at her profile that was perfectly outlined by the darkness. The way her hair fell over her shoulders made it appear as though she wore a magnificent celestial veil.

“ _Christine...don’t you see, it is you! **Y** **ou** are the Angel...”_

“I’m sorry, it seems every time you’ve seen me today I have tears in my eyes. You must think I’m some weak-minded idiot who still believes in stupid fairy-tales and just cries and cries!”

Erik was taken aback by her self-deprecation. It hurt him to hear her talk of herself this way!

“I do not think that way of you.”

His response made her stare at him. She saw how his eyes were soft... _c_ _omforting_.

He stood so close to her, yet he dared not move. When she gently took hold of his hand, she startled him causing him to flinch.

He stared down at her bewildered, as she looked up into his eyes. He could not comprehend how her soft, gentle hand could willingly touch his...his atrocious skeletal hand.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?” he questioned, cocking his head to one side.

“It means a lot to me that you are here. Thank you for just...just listening to me…”

“ _How...how could you thank **me**? I am ashamed! I truly have done nothing to deserve your thanks…”_

How she perplexed him! Unbeknownst to her, she found a way to make him understand what it means to feel _appreciated._

As she continued to look in his eyes, she saw them smile as he silently nodded his head.

“Erik, not to completely change the subject, I, um, I was just wondering, what are you doing in the theater on a Friday afternoon?”

Her question snapped him out of his reverie and caused him to quickly release her hand and move out onto the stage to the instruments.

Confused by his rapid movements, she followed him.

“I am to take care of all school-owned string instruments. I must get them from storage, clean, restring, tune, and any other work that needs to be done with them,” he answered, as he picked up another violin and bow.

“I have begun with these.”

He gestured to the long line of violins and guitars laying across the stage.

“Are there a lot of school-owned string instruments?”

“There are.”

“This seems like a huge undertaking! Has this always been a responsibility of yours?” she innocently questioned.

“More or less,” he smirked under his mask.

“May I help?”

Shocked by her offer, he blankly stared at her. His grip on the violin’s neck loosened causing it to slip almost out of his hand. He was so unaccustomed to anyone other than Nadir consistently offering _him_ help with anything; but she...she was different.

“Why?”

She reached down and picked up a violin and bow.

“Because I would like to help you.”

Again, she made him smile!

“ _How are you doing this, what is this hold you have over me?”_

Silently, he lead her back to where he was working. After looking over the table, she selected her tools and began to work.

Over and over again, with the smallest of acts...with the kindest of gestures! He could not help himself, as he gazed at her while she was in deep concentration of her tasks, and at the same time becoming lost himself in his thoughts.

“ _An Angel of Music? A guide...a guardian. It seems he grants blessings of glory to all that he deems fit. Would she ever consider **me** an angel? If I taught her to sing...if I guided her musical talents…? No! Of course not! It’s impossible! Feh! I am hardly angelic!”_

He held himself in bitter contempt.

“ _Lucifer was once an angel...an **archangel**...God’s favorite! Lucifer was physically beautiful! whereas I... **I** am no angel, but a wretched demon that is beyond the pale of humanity! For so long Lucifer and I had much in common: hatred of the human race, desires of and for revenge, no mercy, no pity...”_

“ _Yet, when **she** appeared...she filled me with such...such hope! She has unknowingly shown a demon such kindness, concern, friendship...forgiveness.”_

“ _She found_ _solace in my voice._ _I did not imagine it!_ _Christine!_ _M_ _y voice,_ _my_ _music..._ _they are_ _my_ _only gift_ _s_ _..._ _my only vestige of physical_ _beauty._ _I can be_ _the_ _Angel of Music for_ _you..._ _i_ _f_ _only_ _you_ _’ll accept me…”_

He failed to notice that she had looked at him while he was lost in his head. When his eyes met hers they both quickly blushed, and continued on with their respective tasks not bringing attention to the other.

Together they continued to work in silence until they realized that they had completed all the violins and guitars on the stage.

“Wow! I feel like we accomplished a lot in one afternoon,” she smiled.

“I used to help my father with his string instruments late into the night sometimes.”

He took notice of her melancholy and knew he could remain silent no longer.

“Christine, I...I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, staring down at her completed guitar.

“Erik, I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. When you asked me to sing, I...I got nervous, and I just...I…(sighing) if your offer still stands, I will do my best not to disappoint you.”

If he could have fallen on his knees before her in that moment without it looking weird and perhaps pathetic, he would have. Hiding the happy tears in his eyes, he kept all of his emotions reserved.

“Perhaps, first we should set up a schedule? Christine, I…”

“Erik? “Erik, are you still here? Where are you? Erik?” Nadir’s voice called from backstage.

Unknowingly, Nadir had rudely interrupted and greatly annoyed the self-designated Angel of Music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:  
> Anonymous. “Sandalphon.” Wikipedia, 2020. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Hopler, Whitney. “Meet Archangel Sandalphon, Angel of Music.” Archangel Sandalphon’s Roles and Symbols, 2017. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020 & 2021.
> 
> Leroux, Gaston. “Chapter 5.” The Phantom of the Opera. Signet Classic, 1987. 
> 
> Storesund, Eirik. “Dance, Trance, and Devil Pacts: The Fiddler and Norwegian Folk Mysticism.” Brute Norse, 2018. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
> 
> Wikipedia Contributors. “Christine Daae.” Wikipedia, 2019. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020 & 2021\. 
> 
> Wikipedia Contributors. “Apollo.” Wikipedia, 2018. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020 & 2021.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you KatiaNeva for your kudos, and thank you readers for giving this little AU a chance!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and canon. With gratitude and love, my friend.

**TRIGGER WARNING: FLASHBACK CONTAINS YOUTH BULLYING: MILD VIOLENCE AND VERBAL ABUSE**

_Earlier…_

“ _...I said **THE** Ambassador for world peace…only **he** can bring peace to this world! Coming to a theater this Christmas, Nadir Khadem is **THE** Ambassador...”_

Nadir smiled to himself as he thought of Meg’s over-the-top voice-over.

“ _..._ _only he can bring_ _peace_ _to this world_ _...the world, huh? Before the world,_ _I should start in my own backyard_ _…”_

* * *

“ _Where_ _is Phil and everybody_ _going?_ _I thought we were going to play out by the_ _blacktop_ _, not the field,_ _”_ Nadir thought to himself as he followed the gang of five at a distance.

* * *

Bâbâ, Dr. Bashir Khadem, was offered a prominent position in medical field. Bâbâ told Nadir that they were going to go on an adventure to a new place with new people, a new home, and a new way of life. At first Mâmân, Ashti Khadem, did not wish to move from Iran to the United States, but she knew it was what would be best for her husband’s work and her young son’s future.

Eight year old Nadir couldn’t wait for his first day of third grade in an American School. An extreme extrovert, he was genuinely excited to move to the United States and couldn’t wait to make new friends. Even though Farsi was his first language, he was very confident in his ability to speak, read, and write English given his family was able to afford a private tutor for him. When the Khadems settled into their new town school had all ready been in session for a month.

On his first day he was instantly welcomed by his class. Everyone wanted to hear what it was like in to live in Iran and wanted to hear him speak Farsi. They wanted to hear about Iranian traditions. Nadir proudly spoke of his grandfather’s shamshir and how his grandfather gave it to him. The boys thought hearing about swords was extremely cool and that the new kid had one was even cooler!

The teacher gave Nadir some time to talk about what the average school day was like in Iran to his new class. He was delighted when he heard the “oos and ahhs” of his new classmates when he wrote his name in Farsi on the blackboard. A boy named Phil and his friends invited Nadir to join their group, join them at lunch, and made plans to play basketball on the blacktop at recess. While Nadir was enjoying all the positive attention he was getting from his new classmates there was one boy that caught his attention.

The boy did not welcome him like the others. He sat in the back of the room. He was slightly slumped over, but Nadir could tell that if he sat up straight he would be much taller than his peers. The boy wore a mask on the top half of his face leaving only his thin lips and jaw exposed. His eyes were not like any sort of eyes Nadir was used to, the color and the way they seemed to glow caused him to stare at the boy. Nadir also noticed that the boy’s clothes were worn, frayed, and appeared not to fit properly. Nadir smiled at the boy, but the boy remained as still as a stone statue both in demeanor and facial expression.

* * *

From the slight distance Nadir kept from the group, he thought it strange that they were going out further into the field nearer to the big bushes and tree line. He remembered one of the rules the teacher had mentioned to him that students were not allowed to go beyond a certain point in the field off of school grounds.

Phil took notice of Nadir following them and called to him catch up.

***TRIGGER WARNING***

“Where is _he_?” one boy asked looking around the tree line.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble coming out this far?” Nadir questioned looking back towards where the teachers stood.

“Nah, they don’t pay attention,” Phil responded still looking back where Nadir was looking.

The boys began to talk amongst themselves.

“I heard he’s really a zombie…”

“If you get too close to him, he stinks...”

“I heard he drinks blood…”

“I heard he eats babies…”

“My older sister said he is a child of the devil...”

“Who are you talking about?” Nadir spoke up.

“That freak in our class,” Phil answered.

“Freak?” Nadir repeated.

“Yeah, the one with the mask.”

“Why do you call him that?”

Nadir truly hated how these boys were acting.

“He’s so weird…he never talks! He’s so skinny and tall. He never takes a shower. No really! Nobody likes him.”

A movement near one of the bushes caught one of the boys’ attention.

“THERE! THERE HE IS! **GET _HIM_**!”

Before Nadir could react, the gang of five swarmed on the masked boy as he tried to make a run for it.

“FREEEAAAK!!” one of the boys squealed.

It appeared the boy could hold his own as he fought one-on-one. He was freakishly strong for his weight, but once he was overtaken by the five he was defenseless.

“HOLD HIM DOWN!” Phil shouted.

Nadir watched in horror as the boy struggled while four held his arms and legs down while laughing at him.

“Let’s see the monster!” Phil jeered.

“NO!” the boy yelled struggling to free himself.

Phil laughed as he tore the mask off the boys face.

Silence overtook the gang, while the boy screamed and struggled like a feral animal.

“OH MY GOD!” one of the boys screamed in fright. He quickly released the boy’s arm and ran back to the blacktop never looking back.

Another boy let go of him and threw up.

Phil’s face grew pale as he stood frozen and stared at the boy in shock.

***** **TRIGGER** **S** **ENDS HERE** *****

When Nadir saw the boy’s horribly deformed face pity overwhelmed him. He thought of Bâbâ, and in doing so, he found the strength within him to do what he should have done at the start.

Nadir grabbed Phil’s arm and forcefully pulled him back and punched him in the face knocking him to the ground.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Nadir shouted, “HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!”

Nadir grabbed the mask out of Phil’s hand, and quickly knelt next to the boy laying the mask beside him.

Phil stared at Nadir in a daze while holding his freshly bruised cheek. The three remaining boys began to surround Nadir and the boy.

The boy remained on the ground and with shaking hands secured the mask on his face.

“He really is a fucking monster…” Phil whispered.

“You will say nothing of this to anyone Phil de Chagny! None of you will! If any of you try to hurt him or bully him again I’ll bring my shamshir to school and make you all very sorry!”

“We’re not friends anymore,” Phil looked at Nadir in disgust as he and the three stalked away from them.

As Nadir stayed beside the masked boy he saw a strange look in the boy’s unique eyes. The look was no longer fear. There was a darkness there that Nadir could not completely comprehend.

“Are you ok?”

The boy did not respond, he only continued to stare at Phil. An odd sort of smile formed on the boy’s ill-shapened lips that caused Nadir to pause and compose himself.

“Hey! Are you ok?”

He reached out his hand to help the boy up. The boy would not accept Nadir’s help, and stood up on his own.

“Got a name, stranger?” Nadir smiled.

“Erik.”

While Nadir and Erik did not speak to one another at that very moment, an understanding was formed between them that day, and from that time on they became inseparable.

* * *

The third grade morning routine went on as usual the next day. Phil and the boys did not say a word about the previous day’s incident. In truth, they were afraid of _both_ Nadir and Erik.

The students sat at their desks while the teacher began their morning meeting. Just as they were about to stand to say the Pledge of Allegiance, a loud “Ow!” filled the gap of silence.

Phil clutched his arm. The teacher approached Phil to see what was the matter. When she got to his desk she let out a shriek and quickly stomped on the floor several times. Running to the intercom she paged the main office.

“Please call an ambulance! One of my students was bitten by a black widow!”

All the students were in an uproar while the teacher attended to Phil. The bite was bad. It began to swell, and Phil cried that his arm was burning. Once Phil was escorted out by the school nurse to wait for the paramedics to arrive, all the students were left shaken; that is, all the students but one.

Nadir saw his new friend, Erik, calmly sitting at his desk unaffected. His eyes were glowing with what seemed like happiness, and he had that same sort of queer smile from yesterday that lead Nadir to believe the black widow bite was not just an accident.

* * *

“ _So much to do and not enough time to do it!”_ Nadir thought to himself.

Color Guard went as well as expected. The major drama always took place among the marching band members, leaving the Guard on the field to patiently wait for the music.

“ _Classes_ _are_ _not particularly overwhelming._ _.._ _AP Euro test Monday;_ _hmmm, just need to review_ _with Erik_ _._ _Microec_ _on_ _,_ _I still have to read about positive and normative economics and the nature of economic systems. Physics...physics...anything in physics? We’ll be finishing up Kinematics soon..._ _I should probably review vector components and resultants*...and the Fall Festival.”_

As Nadir headed in the direction of the dance studio he softly laughed to himself, _“_ _Heh, ‘Little Garnie.’”_

_Meg Giry..._

_How is it we’ve never crossed paths before?_

“ _N_ _ow that I really think about it,_ _w_ _e_ _have crossed_ _paths_ _before_ _!_ _She’s..._ _um,_ _changed since she was a freshman, but I guess it’s fair to say we all have_ _changed_ _in our own ways,”_ he smiled to himself.

The dance studio was directly below the large secondary staircases, which were on the right and left of the Grand Staircase.*

“ _Labyrinth...from what she described it sounds like it might be a good fit for the Festival...a ball-room scene, plot and motifs that fit with Halloween, and honestly one can never go wrong with Bowie.”_

_..._

“ _She probably thinks I’m a loser for never having watched it…”_

_Oh, no! That’s gonna change immediately, mister! We will have to watch it! Then we’ll talk about any of my input and planning...what are you doing tonight…_

Nadir stood outside the closed heavy wooden doors of the dance studio.

“ _Then again, she really seemed eager to remedy the situation...I mean the sooner the better...wait, is she going to come to **my** house?”_

He felt his cheeks grow hot.

“ _Is this a…a date…?”_

_..._

“ _No. It’s not a ‘date date.’ I mean, it’s a date in the sense that we’re going to watch a movie together...for research...um, that doesn’t sound...appropriate. Ok. It’s not in a romantic, traditional sense of a date. ‘Date.’ I guess it’s a scheduled event. Hmm, ‘not-a-date’ date? No. No, too wordy. Need to come up with a precise term...gathering...hanging out…? Maybe I’m overthinking this...”_

He inhaled, held it, and exhaled in an attempt to calm himself.

“ _Wow!_ _What a day this has been! Ever since last night...something’s changed._ _Something_ _has_ _..._ _Erik!_ _D_ _amn it! His punishment_ _for walking out of class_ _started this afternoon_ _..._ _”_

Lost in his thoughts, Nadir opened one of the big wooden doors and did his best to discretely walk in; however, Meg was mid-tour jeté. Unknowingly, Nadir blocked her landing causing her to directly crash into him knocking them both to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:
> 
> Kabourek. “AP Microeconomics - Class Syllabus.” LPS, 2014. Retrieved via Google Search, 2021. 
> 
> Unknown. “AP Physics 1 Syllabus.” laurel k12 ky us, year unknown. Retrieved via Google Search, 2021.
> 
> Unknown. “Rehearsal Rooms, Palais Garnier.” HisoUr, Hi So You Are, year unknown. Retrieved via Google Search, 2021.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to KatiaNeva, Rusalka12, and AngelofMusic93 for your kudos!
> 
> Dedicated readers, new readers, just passing by readers. Thank you for giving this little high school AU a chance! I am always thankful and grateful for all of you!
> 
> ofbeautsandbeasts shared this with me in a PM: “bookthief12 on Instagram saw the PHS scenes and said, ‘Ahhhhh!!!! My favorite phantom fanfic! I wait every week for it to update! This fanfic is the highlight of my week!’”
> 
> You make me feel the all kinds of goods :D Thank you!
> 
> Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and canon. With gratitude and love, my friend.

“ _Erik! His punishment for walking out of class started this afternoon! Damn it! I got side-tracked! I have to make sure that he is doing what he’s **supposed** to be doing...not plotting or planning to...”_

Nadir recollected his earlier conversation with Erik.

_...from the first moment I saw her, I...I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her…_

Christine Daae.

“ _Has he seen her this afternoon?”_

Instantly, he started to worry.

“ _Would he at least be civil to her? What if he was just as cold—no, not cold...aloof?”_

“ _Would if...what if **she** confronted him? He wouldn’t know how to deal with her confrontation...he would either aggressively react or he would retreat. Everything he admitted concerns me, and how he’s processing these new emotions...”_

_...I panicked! ...I was nervous to be around her…_

“ _Perhaps, it may be safe to assume that he would leave and not engage should she confront him. Now that I think about it... **that’s** why he was looking at me so incredulously in class!...and I, oblivious, kept egging him on! He **was** panicking! The Ambassador to World Peace?! Meg, at this rate, I’d be lucky to attain the status of Captain Hindsight!...”_

“ _As long as I can remember he never liked to be touched...not even by doctors! They always had to restrain and drug him in order to examine him! My father...could...but last night...last night she was holding his hand! Using tweezers, no less!”_

_She asked **my** permission to...to touch **me**! No one has ever..._

“ _He doesn’t mean any harm…it’s just…”_

Unconsciously he rubbed his wrist. He thought back to the first day of school when he reached for Erik’s shoulder to get his attention and how Erik had gripped his wrist.

Then he thought of second period.

_**She** humiliated Christine! **She** made her cry!_

“ _Well...h_ _e didn’t_ _physically hurt anyone_ _..._ _today._ _I mean,_ _he defen_ _ded_ _Christine..._ _crime of passion? No, not exactly. He didn’t exactly commit a ‘crime,’ more like an infraction..._ _an infraction_ _of_ _passion_ _…”_

Nadir chuckled to himself.

“ _An infraction passion..._ _?!_ _Oh_ _, Erik,_ _why?_ _!”_

Nadir rubbed the space between his eyes.

...

_**I** made her cry in orchestra... **I** caused her pain...she left class in tears...because of **me**! ... **I** caused her humiliation in front of everyone. **I** am a...demon that hurt...an angel._

“ _Erik would **never** admit fault. There was only one time where it could be proven that he physically harmed someone, everything else could not be proven...but...but with Christine, he took full responsibility for his actions! Remorse is not an emotion that Erik freely expresses, yet he was filled with such remorse...over his treatment of her!”_

He sighed.

“ _He compared her to an angel...No! He said she **was** an angel. An angel. He only saw her on the first day of school! Last night was the first time he interacted with her. She was nice to him! He has had so very little positive experiences with anyone, much less a girl…she made him feel...happy…? Happiness is an emotion he seldom feels.”_

_..._

“ _But there’s still the unanswered question: where does he goes when he ‘vanishes’?”_

_..._

“ _I can’t help but worry about him...he can get fixated...obsessed...music of course...but with things...with certain situations...with certain people…”_

…

“ _I **have** to take better care of him! I have to be **more** observant... **more** empathetic!”_

Lost in his thoughts, Nadir opened one of the big wooden doors and took no notice of his surroundings. Meg was mid-tour jeté and he blocked her landing.

“NADIR!” Meg shrieked.

Snapping him from his thoughts, he reacted quickly, wrapping his arms around her before they both crashed to the floor.

Meg fell on top of Nadir, as he lay with his arms around her flat on his back against the floor.

“Nadir! Oh shhi...my God! Are you...”

She lifted her head and was face to face with him...so close—too close! She saw how bright and beautiful his jade-green his eyes were, and for just a split second she found herself lost in them.

Staring back into her violet blue eyes he felt himself becoming nervous causing him to speak first.

“Meg are...are you ok?”

“Mmm?...OH! Ohmygod!”

Meg began to squirm out of his arms and rolled herself off of him and onto the floor quickly jumping to her feet. Nadir got to his feet just as quickly as they both tried to hide their blushing faces by adjusting their clothing while awkwardly laughing.

“What does ballet call that move?” Nadir chuckled.

“L’extrême fuck-up,” Meg nervously laughed.

She felt so hot...and not just from dancing. She ran to her water bottle while trying to calm her nerves.

Nadir tried not to look directly at her by staring down at the floor while doing his best to inconspicuously direct his eyes in her direction.

She wore a black skin-tight open-back leotard with worn black toe-shoes. Her multicolored hair was up in a messy bun. As she wrapped a small black and white damask patterned towel around the back of her neck he found himself noticing the contours of her body and her small stature more closely than he had meant to. He was burning hot and he noticed his palms were getting sweaty.

“Um, is it always this hot in here?” he openly asked.

Due to color guard practice, he was dressed down in practice attire, wearing black polyester shorts, a red polyester shirt with a gold comedy mask on the upper left, and black tennis shoes.

Without thinking, Meg replied, “Actually, it’s quite cold in here. It’s kept cold deliberately because when we’re all together rehearsing it can get unbearable!”

“Oh, um, well how about that?” he remarked—further embarrassed.

“ _How can he say he’s hot? I mean, yeah, duh, obviously—but he’s had enough down time from the Guard...that’s strange,”_ Meg thought.

“Sooo...what’s the plan, um, for tonight?” he asked, feeling his throat suddenly becoming dry.

“I...I don’t know. Ma doesn’t want anyone over tonight...so...I mean, if it’s ok…”

“So, _**my**_ house?”

“Is it ok with your parents? Ma said it was fine with her if it’s cool with your parents, and just to give her a call to let her know when I’m on my way home. Bus runs later since it’s Friday, so I’m good. Oh! Do you have a streaming service that carries the movie?”

“I...I need to check all of this with them…”

“You could use the phone in the office over there.”

“Yeah, um, let me get right on that.”

“ _Focus Khadem...remember this isn’t a ‘date-date!’”_

Nadir excused himself in the small office off the studio, closed the door, and picked up the phone.

“Mâmân...yes, I’m fine.”  
“Yes, Guard is over...I’m still at Paris.”  
“No, there isn’t anything wrong.”  
“What do you mean why do I sound like this? What do I sound like?”  
“My throats a little dry.”  
“No, I’m not getting sick.”  
“The day?...It was… _‘weird’_ ...fine.”  
“I know, I know, yes, I know.”  
“Hey, um, is it ok if I have a friend come over tonight?”  
“It actually has to do with Fall Festival planning.”  
“Yes, Mâmân, I know.”  
“So, it’s cool? Ok, nice, thanks.”  
“Oh! By any chance do you know if our streaming service carries the movie, _Labyrinth_?”  
“Why?...Well…”  
“Wait! You’ve seen it?! When?!  
“How come I haven’t?!”  
“When was I disinterested?!”  
“I didn’t know it was one of your favorite movies!”  
“I do listen to you.” _sigh  
_ “Mâmân...”  
“We do? Great!”  
“We’ll be there in about an hour…”  
“No, you don’t have to cook anything…”  
“The house always looks beautiful…”  
“Yes, I’m sure nothing’s wrong!”  
“All right, Mâmân, I have to get going...see you soon!  
“Dustat Dāram.”

After he hung up he walked back into the studio slowly shaking his head.

“Sorry, about that. Moms.”

“So…?”

Nadir stared at her confused.

“So?”

“What did she say?”

“Oh! Um, sorry! Yes to coming over and yes we do have the movie...she said it was one of her favorites!”

“Your mother has excellent taste,” Meg smiled.

“Well, I need to hit the showers…did you want to wait here?”

“Actually, can you meet me in the hall by the backstage entrance?”

“ _The hall by the backstage entrance? That’s specific...Little Garnie isn’t your home-base building…”_

“Yeah! Sure! I’ll be about thirty to forty-five minutes...sound good?”

“Perfect.”

* * *

Erik and Christine continued to work in silence until they had completed all the violins and guitars. They stood center stage looking over their work.

“Wow! I feel like we accomplished a lot in one afternoon!”

Looking down at the long line of instruments she reminisced.

“I used to help my father with his string instruments late into the night sometimes.”

Her melancholy caused Erik’s heart to ache.

“Christine, I...I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, averting his eyes.

“Erik, I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. When you asked me to sing, I...I got nervous, and I just...I…

_sighing_

“...if your offer still stands, I will do my best not to disappoint you.”

If he could have fallen on his knees before her in that moment without it looking weird and perhaps pathetic, he would have. Hiding the happy tears in his eyes, he kept all of his emotions reserved.

“Perhaps, first we should set up a schedule? Christine, I…”

“Erik? “Erik, are you still here? Where are you? Erik?” Nadir’s voice called from backstage.

Christine looked to Erik and saw his eyes squint, as if annoyed. His entire demeanor changed as his focus was diverted.

Nadir entered from stage right seeing that Erik stood center stage; however, he did not see Christine.

“Erik! Didn’t you hear me?”

“Hi, Nadir,” Christine meekly called from beside Erik.

“Christine?”

Shocked by the sight of them together, he quickly had to reformulate his thoughts.

“Hi, Christine...I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

Christine moved between the two as Erik stood still and silent.

Nadir became insulted that Erik became rigid, especially towards him!

“Oh, I just was helping Erik. It seemed like such a large undertaking for one person to do all of this alone.”

Biting back his sarcasm, Nadir casually responded, “It’s not the first time.”

Erik glared at him from behind Christine.

“I...I guess I better go home...it _is_ getting late,” she looked to Erik.

Erik’s heart silently pleaded with her.

“ _Please..._ _please_ _don’t go..._ _there is still so much I_ _want_ _...I_ _need_ _to learn about you...we_ _still have so much to talk about...”_

Erik was not ready for her to leave. He could not respond to her. He felt as though he was drowning as an inescapable feeling of loneliness overcame him. His body grew more tense his eyes reflected sadness as he stared at her.

While currently irked with Erik, Nadir made it a point to pay closer attention to his best friend’s body language, and he saw how Erik seemed to be battling an inner-turmoil. There was something about this girl that caused Erik to react in ways that Nadir wasn’t used to. He was used to Erik’s obsessive behavior, but such behavior was always fixated his rage and focus on revenge, or him being passionate over his newest and latest musical scores, but this...this was something entirely different.

“Christine, there’s no need for you to leave...if you wouldn’t mind, I need to speak to Erik for a moment.”

Nadir tried his best to temper the awkwardness of Erik’s silence.

“I...I’ll wait in the hall, ok?” she responded.

“Do you just want to meet me there when you’re done?”

“Yes...yes _we_ will,” Nadir answered.

She turned to Erik and smiled at him. His eyes softened as he gave her a slow nod and watched her exit stage right.

“Did you…? What was…? How come…?…”

Trying to formulate sentences under the influence of his repressing shock and annoyance caused Nadir to trip over his words.

“You’d be terrible at interrogation, Daroga,” Erik smugly commented, as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Don’t call me that! I hate it when you call me that! _You_ know what I’m trying to say!”

“Do I? It sounded like fragmented rambling to me.”

“Don’t play games with me, Erik!”

“Why are you here? Did you not think I would fulfill my obligation to our incompetent cowardly administrators? Honestly, Nadir?”

“Oh, I knew you would be here fulfilling your obligation...and…”

Erik raised his eyebrows, “And?…”

“...and then some.”

“There you go again, with your implications...Daroga.”

Nadir’s agitation continued to grow. Doing his best to ignore Erik’s last comment Nadir patiently continued.

“You never _just_ fulfill your tasks. You usually throw something in for good measure that they don’t find or discover until days or weeks later.”

Erik slyly smiled under the mask.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is that why you’re here? To wrongfully accuse me?”

“I don’t want you to get into further trouble! Don’t you understand that?”

“Nadir, don’t worry. Today I behaved like a good boy.”

“Why was Christine here, Erik? Did you ask her to help you?”

“Can’t a student move freely around the campus and go where she likes? Don’t you believe in coincidences? How would...how could _I_ get her to come here with...with _me_?! Sorcery?! Some form of mind control?! She came here alone to remember her father! She had no idea I was even here!” Erik defensively answered.

“Did you make amends with her today?”

Erik sighed.

“Answer me.”

“I...we were in AP French together. I didn’t realize how _my_ actions made her feel, Nadir! She...she asked me why did I hate her so much? She cared about what _I_ thought?! She truly thought I hated her! Hate... _her_?! Doesn’t she realize, doesn’t she understand! I could _never_ hate her! _Never_! Yet, _I_ hurt her... _I_ caused her so much pain! My actions...my behavior caused her sadness!”

“Did you apologize to her? Did you make things right with her?”

Nadir observed Erik’s entire demeanor change. He could hear the remorse in Erik’s voice as he began to retreat into his head—reliving his experiences with her through inexperienced emotion.

“I _did_ apologize, and instead of being disgusted with me, instead of turning me away, instead of rejecting my penance she...she blessed me with her smile...a smile just for me. She forgave _me_! Nadir, she offered me her friendship! I cannot fathom it!”

“I’m proud of you! You did the right thing, you apologized, you took ownership of your actions!”

As though he were living a dream, Erik continued on.

“She...she sang...and her voice...her voice was like nothing I have ever heard. It was emotional, haunting...seraphic…”

“Seraphic?”

“If you had heard her...”

…

“She stayed here...with me. _S_ _he_ offered to help and _she_ chose to stay to help me. I would not send her away...I would _never_ send her away.”

“Erik...you need to slow down...”

“I...I like being with her...but when she has to leave, I feel so lonely without her...”

“You are just getting to know her. To feel as intensely as you do...look, you need to slow down a bit. Friendship is a great start! Erik, please if you come on too strong it may be...off-putting to her.”

“You’re saying I’ll frighten her!” Erik defensively growled.

“I’m saying you _don’t_ want to frighten her! You don’t want to make her _not_ want to be around you, do you?”

Erik felt such confusion.

“Why is this happening to me, Nadir?”

“After today, I can reassure you, you’re not the only one _this_ is happening to!”

Nadir looked at his watch.

“ _Damn it!_ _I almost forgot..._ _Meg!”_


End file.
